


Sore Losers Make for Good Lovers

by phonecallfromgod



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Canon Compliant, College, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Pining, Reluctant Character Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonecallfromgod/pseuds/phonecallfromgod
Summary: Fall of his Freshman year Divya Narendra has a moment with a guy at a party which fails to go anywhere but which leads him to falling in with the All-American Overachievers known as Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss.Fall of his Senior Year Divya Narendra has a multi-million dollar idea and an ill-thought out friends with benefits arrangement with Cameron Winklevoss that feels like it could maybe be going somewhere if they could stop being such sore losers about their failed attempt at love at first sight.
Relationships: Divya Narendra & Tyler Winklevoss, Divya Narendra & Tyler Winklevoss & Cameron Winklevoss, Divya Narendra/Cameron Winklevoss, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 41





	Sore Losers Make for Good Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely the fault of evol_love and youshallnotfinditso when after I finished my other TSN fic they both asked me how exactly Divya and Cameron got together. 46k later and now we're here. Thanks guys.

**June 2000**

Despite what people think about him, Divya doesn’t actually hate very many people. He’s annoyed by a lot of people sure, might think they’re obnoxious or unintelligent or just boring, but he doesn’t hate anyone for something as mundane as that. Especially because if he hated people for those things he’d have to hate most people. 

So when he says he hates Derek Visser, there’s weight to that. 

Derek is in the same grade as Divya and is actually in a lot of his classes. Derek is the kind of smart that gets more credit than it should because he’s six foot something and on the lacrosse team and was in a school play once and is well liked. The kind of guy who gets way more credit for his 3.0 average than Divya ever will for his 3.9, just because he’s conventionally attractive, (white), and charming. 

That’s what drives Divya crazy the most, the fact that Derek is actually kind of a nice guy. Like he’s a douchebag, totally, but he’s not overt about it, he’s not writing shit on people’s lockers or knocking over lunch trays. He’s just a douchebag in the way that white dudes like that always are, because they’ve never had to strive for anything. 

Divya is Valedictorian, but Derek is class speaker, and unlike Divya he gets a standing fucking ovation, even though his speech literally opened with _“Merriam-Webster Defines Success as”_ and ends with a quote from Dr. Seuss’ _Oh The Places You’ll Go_. Even though Divya’s going to Harvard and Derek’s settled for some safety school. 

He seethes about it to his then-girlfriend, Camille, who listens placatingly for a little while and then says, “You better get a new schtick before Harvard, everyone there is going to be some grumpy nerd who didn’t get their due in high school.”

For her birthday over the summer Divya agrees to have a threesome with one of her friends, Bryant. Camille breaks up with him a few weeks before he’s set to leave for Cambridge, but he and Bryant keep in touch for a bit. 

Hey, she can’t say that he didn’t get a new schtick. 

Divya meets Cameron first at some welcome week mixer thing, one of at least half a dozen he’d signed up to go to. He’s trying to get better at being more outgoing, more charming, more like the Derek Vissers of the world. But by the end of the week Divya’s done with the neverending fever-dream loop of the same three introductory questions. What’s your name? Where are you from? What’s your major? 

He honestly thinks if he has to say Divya, or The Bronx, or applied mathematics one more time he will actually spontaneously combust. 

He’s tucked in a corner, actually thinking about leaving when this Derek Visser fucker — actually, scratch that, Derek _wishes_ he was this dude, who is ripped, has a face like a movie star, and is six foot stupid — walks up and plants himself on the wall beside Divya. 

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just sipping from a half-empty bottle of water, before he finally asks, “Hey, did you watch the Olympics this summer?” 

Divya blinks. “The Olympics?” 

“Yeah,” The guy says. “In Sydney?” 

“No, yeah, I’m aware, sorry you just caught me off guard,” Divya says. “I watched a bit. Is that important?” 

The guy shrugs. “I guess not, I just didn’t want to start another conversation talking about our majors or what dorms we’re in.” He takes a sip of water. “I saw you at that Entrepreneurship Society Mixer on Wednesday.” 

Divya doesn’t remember seeing him there at all, which is kind of crazy given that this guy seems hard to miss. But more than that, there’s something about how he says it. Something. Inviting. 

“I was thinking about checking out this frat party, Sigma Chi, if you’re into that kind of thing?” 

“Not really,” Divya says. 

“Yeah, me neither.” 

“Really?” Divya asks, even though he probably shouldn’t, but this guy has a jawline that just screams Greek Life. 

“Nah,” The guy says. “Frats are fine, but I’d rather be in a final club.” He says it deliberately, so Divya will know that he knows. That he recognized him putting the moves and the work in to get a punch from day one. 

Divya clicks his tongue and takes a sip of his own drink, annoyed but almost flattered. “I’d go check out that party.” 

“Cameron Winklevoss,” The guy says, shoving out a hand to shake. He says his name like it means something, but somehow it doesn’t bother Divya that much. 

He accepts his hand, which is almost comically large, but he squeezes back hard. “Divya Narendra.”

There’s a line out the door of people trying to get into the party, but Cameron just walks them in, exchanging the right nods with the two guys at the door. They both drink shitty keg beer and talk about nothing particularly important. Divya, under oath, gun to his head, could not say how it happened, but somehow the two of them find themselves in a secluded upstairs hallway, Cameron talking about some guy he knows in the frat because of something with his dad, Divya not really listening because he’s thinking through his odds of being able to pin Cameron to the wall. 

He goes easier than Divya had expected, practically melting down so their mouths are level, letting Divya take what he wants. 

It feels like a victory somehow. The biggest fuck-you to Derek and his ilk to pin Cameron Winklevoss against the wall, hear him make little desperate broken noises as they kiss, _make_ him make those noises. 

His head is spinning with the thought and the shitty beer, and when they kiss again their teeth collide painfully. 

“Sorry, shit,” Cameron says. “I’m kind of drunk.” 

“You are not, you had like two drinks,” Divya says, pulling back the collar of Cameron’s shirt. 

“I don’t drink much,” Cameron says, practically panting. “Not good for training. Wrong kind of carbs.” 

Divya’s not really listening anymore, kissing and sucking hard where Cameron’s neck meets his shoulder, Cameron’s impossibly huge hands pushed hard against his back.

They get interrupted some time after that, some pledge dude and a girl coming thumping and giggling up the stairs, loud enough that he and Cameron are both straightened out by the time anyone actually emerges. 

Cameron doesn’t ask for his number so Divya doesn’t give it to him, but he rubs at his neck and says, “I’ll see you around?” and that feels like enough. 

Divya doesn’t see Cameron for months after that, even though he’s still going to plenty of stupid mixers and parties and whatever else he thinks might give him a leg-up for getting punched. Around Halloween he sees Cameron jogging across campus, but he’s pretty sure there’s nothing more desperate than actively chasing after a dude you made out with at a Welcome Week party just to say hi. 

Besides, it’s not like he’s sitting around pining or something. He went on a couple of dates with a girl in his computing class, and when he flies home for Thanksgiving he even hooks up a few more times with Bryant. It’s not a big deal. Honestly. 

But he is still pleasantly surprised when, right before finals week of his first semester, he spots Cameron sitting at a library table with one free spot. The place is packed and Divya’s been wandering around for at least half an hour, so it does maybe feel like more of a sign than it ought to. 

“Hey,” Divya says, not too loudly, but loud enough that Cameron looks up. “Is uh, this seat free?” 

Cameron blinks twice and one-shoulder shrugs, “Yeah sure. Knock yourself out.” 

It’s. Not what he’s expecting. But whatever, it’s finals, they’re all exhausted and stressed, he doesn’t need Cameron Winklevoss to coddle him when he’s got two entire packs of index cards to absorb into his brain by tomorrow. 

It’s a while later when Cameron taps Divya’s foot with his own under the table. “Hey, can you watch my stuff for a second?” 

“Yeah, for sure,” Divya says, feeling more flattered than he probably should at being asked, studying the spine of his Economics textbook and the pile of papers and highlighters that Cameron left behind like that might mean something.

“Are you an econ major?” Divya asks when Cameron comes back, a bottle of red gatorade in hand. 

“Uh, yeah,” Cameron says, in the kind of way that lets Divya know that he doesn’t really want this conversation to go any further. Like he’s just some rando making annoying small talk with him.

Whatever, it’s not fucking worth it, and so Divya packs up his stuff and decides to go try his luck elsewhere. 

Literally not even a _week_ later Divya’s in line getting a coffee between exams when he hears someone call his name loud enough across the lobby that half the people in line turn. Cameron’s practically jogging over, looking exactly like a giant golden retriever. Or maybe something a little more intimidating, a German Shepherd or a Great Dane. 

“Hey! I thought that was you,” Cameron says. “Dude I was _just_ thinking about you.” 

“You were?” Divya says, trying to keep his voice neutral, even if he’s half pissed about the library still. Even if he’s half totally pleased that Cameron came over to talk to him. 

“My friend Ethan was just telling me that there’s this big, it’s not like, sponsored by any of the final clubs, but there’s this big party on Friday that a lot of guys from the Phoenix are supposed to be at. You should totally come.” 

“Sure, okay, sounds fun,” Divya says. “You got an address?” 

Cameron nods, slinging his bag off his shoulder and rummaging around until he finds a sharpie, showing his palm to Divya where he’s written the address. “Don’t tell my dad I wrote on myself, he’ll be all up my ass about ink poisoning.” 

“No promises,” Divya says. Is that flirting? He didn’t think it was flirting but Cameron’s kind of looking at him like it was, which is totally unfair after the whole library thing. 

Cameron uncaps the sharpie with his teeth and holds out the marker for Divya, and even though he would normally never do it, and even though he has paper in his bag, Divya copies the address into his own cupped palm.

“I gotta run,” Cameron says, recapping the sharpie. “But for real. You should totally come. It’ll be awesome.” 

“Sounds good,” Divya agrees, and only later kicks himself for not asking Cameron for his number, or at the very least his email. But whatever, he’ll see him Friday. It’s not a big deal. 

Divya is drinking mediocre keg beer when he spots Cameron at the party, and he pushes down the feeling of deja vu, debating for a second if he should go over and say hi. His ego’s still a bit wounded from the whole library incident, but it _had_ been finals week. No one is exactly their ideal self during finals week. 

“Hey,” Divya says over the music, “I heard Athens just got picked for the 2004 Olympics.” 

“What?” Cameron says. 

“You know, because. The Sydney Olympics?” 

Cameron looks at him blankly. “Alright.”

“Okay, sorry,” Divya says.

“I’ve got some people I should say hi to,” Cameron says dismissively. He sets a half-empty cup down on a table and turns to go. “Also, Athens got selected in 97, so. Not exactly breaking news, dude.” 

Cameron turns to go, and Divya should probably just say fuck it and call it a night, but something sharp and hot hits him like a freight train and suddenly he’s following after Cameron into the hall and grabbing his wrist. 

“What the _fuck_ — ” Cameron says but Divya yanks him hard into an alcove. 

“Hey look, I don’t know what your deal is— ” 

“ — _My_ deal— ” 

“ —Like I get it, dude. I’m not tromping around with a rainbow fucking flag either, okay? I’m not looking for a _boyfriend_ but don’t fucking pull this hot and cold bullshit with me. I didn’t ask you to invite me to this stupid party. I didn’t ask you to flirt with me at the fucking mixer, and I _definitely_ didn’t ask you to put your hand down my fucking pants at Sigma Chi. So can you just make up your mind please and cut the shit?” 

Cameron blinks at him for a second, processing. Possibly speechless? Divya feels like his blood has carbonated, so much adrenaline is pumping through his system, and he waits for a long time for Cameron to say something. 

Finally, he very slowly says, “Can you wait here for like, thirty seconds? I think this will be easier if I just— look, just wait here for a second.” 

Divya must look skeptical because Cameron sighs and says, “I promise I’m not fucking with you. Just wait here. Two minutes.” 

“Fine, two minutes,” Divya says, even though a second ago it was thirty seconds. He sets an alarm on his watch just to be petty and then immediately cancels it because the idea of watching time tick down freaks him out. 

God, the fact that he is even standing here doing this for some Derek Visser-esque econ major is totally insane to him. He should just go, he should just go back to his dorm and stop trying to make nice with someone who probably would have bullied him in middle school. He should make Cameron come back from whatever the fuck he’s doing and just— 

“Div- _ya_!” Cameron says, all bright eyes and charm. “Dude, you came!”

Cameron has him in a bro hug before Divya can even get out a _“What the fuck,”_ and when he pulls away Divya notices that he’s wearing an entirely different outfit, his hair looks slightly less stupid, and also that there’s an entire extra one of him standing three feet away looking smug. 

“I told you it would just be easier to show you,” Not-Cameron says.

“Divya, this is my brother Tyler. Tyler, Divya.” 

“Sup,” Tyler says, popping the P like chewing gum. 

So that’s how Divya meets Tyler Winklevoss for the first and third time. 

“Well. Thank god you’re not an econ major,” Divya says when Tyler slinks off. 

Cameron winces. “I’m actually also an econ major.” 

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Divya says, and lets Cameron follow after him this time. 

“So why do you wanna be in a final club?” Cameron asks when he’s walking Divya back to his dorm. He’d insisted even when Divya had tried to turn it down, so he’s not sure if this is Cameron trying to subtly angle for a repeat of Welcome Week. 

Divya can’t decide if he likes the idea of that or not. 

“My high school girlfriend told me that everyone at Harvard was going to be some nerd with a 4.0 and a chip on their shoulder, so I better find some way to try and stand out a little. This was just the option I liked most.” 

“Girlfriend?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“No I’m not, I just— I wasn’t sure if you were. You know. Not picky?” 

“I’m _very_ picky,” Divya says, and Cameron laughs even though it’s not really a joke. “I do like women though. If that’s a problem.” 

“No, no,” Cameron shakes his head. “I mean, as long as it’s not a problem that I don’t.” 

“Of course not,” Divya says. “Hey, um, so I said enough to your brother that he probably knows we hooked up. Is that going to be a problem?” 

Cameron shrugs. “Shouldn’t be. Tyler’s known since before I told him.” 

“I meant is that going to be a problem for me.”

“Right. I apologize, that was. That was self-centred of me,” Cameron acqueses, which surprises Divya. “Tyler won’t say anything to anyone else. I think he was sort of impressed by your gumption.” 

“My gumption?” Divya echoes. 

Cameron hums in agreement, hands shoved into his pockets. They walk in companionable silence the rest of the way to his dorm. 

“Did you want to, come up for a drink or something?” Divya says. “I mean not, not a drink-drink because I don’t have anything in my room right now. But I could make you tea or something?” 

Divya knows Cameron is going to say no before he even starts talking, shoulders bunching. “I’m not propositioning you. It just seemed like the polite thing to do.” 

“I know,” Cameron says. “It’s not that. I just have to get up super early for practice.” 

“Practice?” Please don’t be lacrosse, Divya thinks, he really can’t handle it if he hooked up with a lax bro. 

“Yeah, Tyler and I row crew.” 

Divya blinks. God. He should be grateful that it isn’t lacrosse but somehow, crew is even douchier. Any sport that involves a _boat_ just really kicks it up that extra notch. 

“You alright?” Cameron prompts. 

“Sure. Totally,” Divya says. “It’s just a good thing we met when we did. That’s all.” 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Cameron says. 

“Suit yourself.” 

The silence hangs between them for a long second, interrupted suddenly by the distinctive clicking and giggling sound of some girls making their way home from a night out. 

“Here, I should,” Cameron says, a sharpie marker appearing in his hand. “Let me give you my number. We should hang out when finals calm down.” 

“Alright,” Divya says. 

“May I?” Cameron asks, gesturing for Divya’s hand. Cameron writes his number, just on the inside of Divya’s wrist, using one hand to hold it steady and the other to write. 

“You’re left-handed.” 

“You’re observant,” Cameron says, recapping his pen. “We should hang, I’d love you to meet Tyler in a better setting. I know you didn’t get the best first impression, but he’s a good guy. Call me, okay? We’ll get something set up.” 

“Sure,” Divya agrees. “I’ll call you.” 

Their schedules don’t really match up, so Divya doesn’t see Cameron or Tyler again before he goes home for winter break. He goes to a party in Queens with some of his high school friends, but the whole thing is stilted and weird, all of them having been knocked into new orbits by college. He makes an excuse to leave early, even though all he does when he gets home is spend a few hours playing spider solitaire and emailing Cameron about meeting up after break. 

He tries not to get too excited when Cameron emails him back within an hour, and he forces himself to wait two entire days before answering. 

Bryant calls twice but Divya lets it go to voicemail. 

There’s snow on the ground when he gets back to Cambridge, and he has an arrangement to meet the twins and Tyler’s roommate at a burger place near campus the night he flies in. 

“Hey!” One of them calls, waving an arm at him “Over here!” 

“Hey, happy new year,” Divya says sliding into the booth beside...shit. He can’t tell, but he figures if he just plays it cool, neither will notice. He shakes hands with Ethan and they all make small talk about break over their menus. Still, it must be all over his face, because when they’re all studying their menus the twin across the table taps him in the shin gently with his foot, and when Divya looks up he mouths _‘I’m Tyler’_ at him. 

It’s still nice, but he would have figured it out at the end of the night anyways when Cameron insisted on walking him back to his dorm again. 

“So your break was good?” Cameron asks, even though they already went over this at the restaurant. “Did you have a nice— do you celebrate Christmas?” 

Divya waves a non-committal hand. “Kinda,” he shrugs. “We always go see the Rockettes Holiday Spectacular, does that count?” 

“Oh yeah you’re from New York, right?” 

“The Bronx.” 

“Really!?” Cameron considers this. “Actually. No that tracks.” 

Divya can’t tell if that’s supposed to be a dig. “Wow, thanks.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Cameron says, bumping Divya with his elbow. “I just meant you’re scrappy. Also, okay, don’t get mad, but you do kind of have an accent.” 

“Fuck you, sorry we’re not all bread-and-butter New Englanders.” 

“I like it!” Cameron says, and it’s cold but Divya’s face is so warm. 

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. Are they going to hook up or aren’t they? Are they friends or is this just a weird elaborate courtship method? The mathematician in Divya says that he needs to gather more data. 

“Do you wanna come up?” Divya says, when they get to his dorm. 

“Yeah, sure,” Cameron says. “You can make me that tea you promised.” 

“I’m not sure who’s back yet,” Divya says, unlocking his door. He’s in a quad room with another three guys, two of whom he gets along with fine, and the third who Divya is undecided about. 

Which means, of course, it’s Braydon who is home first from break, and Takumi and Ari who are nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh, hey Div,” Braydon says, looking up from his laptop. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

“Hey, I brought a friend over.” Divya says, and it comes out a lot more defensive than he intends. 

“What’s up, man?” Cameron says from behind him, giving Braydon a little wave. “I’m Cameron.” 

Divya expects Braydon to just bro nod and go back to whatever he was doing, but he basically does a double take and shoves his laptop off his lap. “Oh, hey, oh my god. Cameron right? I was just at the HOCR in October, you were like. Total beast mode.” 

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Cameron says. 

“Sorry, this is Braydon,” Divya says. 

“Cool,” Cameron says, and they shake hands.

“Hey, sorry, let me get my shit out of your way,” Braydon says, entirely uncharacteristically for the dude who is always leaving his stuff strew across the living room and not rinsing out the sink after he shaves. “It was great to meet you, Cameron,” he says, tucking his laptop under his arm as he scrambles to get all his shit off the couch and shuffles over to his room. 

There’s no proper door, so Divya doesn’t say what he’s thinking, but he shares a skeptical half-glance with Cameron who just shrugs and flops down in the now-vacated spot left by Braydon. Divya goes into his room to dig out his kettle from its hiding place under his bed. 

“Okay, I’ve got chai, earl grey, rooibos and some ginger lemon,” Divya calls from the bathroom as he fills the kettle. “I also have some instant coffee if you’re a masochist.” 

“I have been accused of that before,” Cameron says, fluffing his hair. “You pick. I don’t drink a lot of tea, just make me whatever is your favourite.” 

Divya is probably way overthinking things, but this feels like a test. 

He’s always been good at tests though, so he makes Cameron’s tea in his State Champion Academic Decathlon mug and doesn’t roll his eyes at how much sugar Cameron adds to it. 

“Dude,” Braydon says, reemerging from his room after Cameron has left. “How the hell do you know Cameron Winklevoss?” 

Divya doesn’t look up from where he’s rinsing out their mugs. “Just from stuff.” 

“Dude, you know he’s like, _going_ to be in the Olympics one day. Him and his brother are insanely good.” Braydon drums on the counter. “Plus, you know. They’re insanely loaded, so there’s that.” 

Divya makes a noncommittal noise in response. None of this is really news to him. Well, maybe the Olympics part to some degree, but he figured anyone who spent that much time between the gym and practice must be good enough to warrant it. 

“Jesus,” Braydon says. “Cameron fucking Winklevoss. I dunno how you did it, man, but don’t throw a connection like that away for love nor money.” He slaps Divya on the shoulder and plants himself on the couch. “I know I fucking wouldn’t.” 

It’s a pleasant surprise for Divya to realize he actually really likes Tyler Winklevoss. Cameron talks him into switching into Astronomy with them as a 100 level science requirement, and Divya expects it to end up a total third wheel situation. And it kind of does, only he’s not the third wheel. Cameron is. 

“Oh shush yourself,” Tyler says when Cameron turns around and shushes them for the third time that day to stop talking. “Just move, you can’t hear us talking from the middle of the row.” 

“Fuck you,” Cameron says. “You know the left-handed desks are only on the aisle.” 

“Poor baby,” Tyler says, flicking Cameron’s ear. 

Cameron turns around and gives an exasperated hurt look to Divya. “Dude, I don’t know what you expect me to do about this. I’m not taking on a guy twice my size.” 

“You dragged me around that house party before Christmas pretty well,” Tyler points out, “Though you had the element of surprise on your side that time. And the righteous fury of a thousand white hot suns.” 

“Oh my _god_ you two— ” 

“ —Hey! That one was actually astronomy related.” 

“We’ll see who’s laughing when it’s midterms and you jackasses want to use my notes. Also, the TA is totally going to come over here and yell at us.” 

“You mean the TA who thinks you — and by extension, me — is totally dreamy and sexy cool? No way in hell.” 

“Wow,” Divya deadpans. “Dreamy _and_ sexy cool.” 

“She does not,” Cameron says. 

Tyler pulls on the strings of his hoodie. “She does! She’s _always_ looking over here.” 

As if on cue, the TA in question appears from behind them. “Hey guys, I’m glad you’re engaged, but can we keep it down a little bit?” 

“Absolutely, I apologize on behalf of all three of us,” Cameron says immediately. 

“Kiss ass,” Tyler mutters under his breath, and Divya bites his lip and stares down at his notebook. 

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” she says. Divya hedges a glance up at her, she twirls a piece of hair around her finger. “Just, you know. Be courteous.” 

The weird thing though is that she’s not looking at Cameron or Tyler, she’s looking at him. She sees him catch her eye and bites her lip and, okay. Maybe Divya could be into this. 

He doesn’t notice until after class, everyone packing up, that she’d slipped a folded piece of paper into his notebook. 

“Holy crap,” Divya says, holding it up between two fingers for Tyler. 

“No way,” Tyler says, snagging it for him, and opening it up to reveal her phone number and her name _(Shannon <3)_. 

“Div, you _dog_ ,” Tyler says, shoving him playfully. “See I told you she was always looking over here, Cam!” 

“Well TAs can’t date their students,” Cameron says dismissively, pulling his coat on. “Divya’s not going to put himself at risk of academic probation for some random girl.” 

“Yeah, totally,” Divya says, but he tucks the note into his pocket anyways. 

“Spoilsport,” Tyler huffs. 

Cameron was right about one thing, though. Divya does come begging for his notes right before midterm, his own looking a little sparse thanks to mostly using class time to bond with Tyler. 

Cameron’s roommate, a pasty white guy Divya can never remember the name of, answers the door. “Hey man,” Divya says, “is Cam here?” 

Pasty guy shakes his head. “Nah, he went out a while ago.” 

“With Tyler?” 

“No, some other dude. I didn’t know him.” 

“Huh, okay,” Divya says, he’d picked up pretty quickly to the fact that while Cameron and Tyler knew a lot of people (and a lot of people knew them), they didn’t actually seem to have a ton of close friends. Which makes sense, it’s hard to get real buddy-buddy with a lot of people when you’re spending most of your free time being intimidating clone crew beefcakes who go to bed at 10:30, wake up at 5:00 am, and have a bunch of weird dietary stuff. 

Also they’re econ majors, which. That’s a big hurdle for anyone to overcome, not accounting for anything else. 

“Did he tell you when he’d be back?” 

Pasty guy shrugs again. “No.” 

“Cool, thanks,” Divya says, huffing a sigh and turning on his heel. It’s almost ten, so odds are if he just hangs out in the lobby he’ll be able to catch Cam coming home. 

He’s leafing through his (admittedly not great) notes when he catches the sound of Cameron laughing as he comes through the front door, Divya shoving his notes in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“ —No I swear, I thought he was going to kill me,” Cameron says to some guy that Divya thinks he maybe vaguely recognizes from their crew team. 

“Did you ever find them?” he asks. 

“Nah, those Gucci sunglasses are property of the Charles now,” Cameron says. “But I mean, c’mon, it’s his own fault for wearing them in the first place.” 

“Obviously,” Crew guy says laughing. He touches Cameron’s arm and suddenly it all fucking clicks. 

“Cam,” Divya says, too loud, before he can stop himself. “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Cameron looks over at him, deer in the fucking headlights, and Divya knows that Cameron knows he knows this is a date. 

Which like. Whatever the fuck. Cameron can date some random crew dude if he wants to, it’s not like Divya’s been sitting around pining. But it just feels like he was owed, he doesn’t know, some kind of heads up? If not because they made out at that party and probably would have gone farther if we hadn’t been interrupted, then because Divya’s his fucking friend and probably one of the only people in Cameron’s life who might actually get it. 

And it’s not like Cameron’s been leading him on, but he hasn’t _not_ been leading him on either with all his, oh Divya make me tea the way _you_ like it, oh Divya you look cold do you want my sweater, oh Divya we _have_ to take a class together.

It’s such fucking bullshit. 

“Uh, sorry,” Cameron says, after way too long and awkward of a pause. “Divya, this is Preston, Preston this is my friend Divya.” 

“Hey man,” Preston says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Oh, cool,” Divya says. “Can’t say the same sadly, but I’m sure you’re great.” 

Cameron runs a hand through his hair, “No, c’mon, I’ve definitely mentioned him to you before. Preston’s the equipment manager?” 

There’s something very mean on the tip of Divya’s tongue about water boys, but he swallows it like taking an aspirin without water. 

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Divya says. “Look, I just wanted to borrow your astronomy notes and then I’ll get right out of your hair.” 

“Sure, why don’t I just run upstairs and grab those for you,” Cameron says. Divya wants to argue back but frankly he’s probably already pushing his luck as is. Cameron’s always been about image and presentation above all else. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Preston says with a little wave, before following after Cameron. 

Divya rubs the toe of his shoe into the hardwood floor, like if he presses hard enough it will make a divot. Like it will matter. 

Cameron’s back almost annoyingly fast, holding out a sheet of printed notes. “Here you go,” he says, perfectly pleasant. “I colour-coded the sections.” 

“Thanks,” Divya says. “I appreciate it.” 

“Don’t tell Tyler, okay? I’m making him suffer,” Cameron says and then claps Divya on the shoulder. “Have a good night.” 

“Sure,” Divya says. “You too.” 

He makes Cameron leave first, awkwardly walking backwards a few steps before turning to thud back up the stairs. Can’t leave Preston waiting. 

It’s not that Divya needs, or even wants, Cameron to walk him back to his dorm. But it feels so wrong that he didn’t even offer. 

Maybe that’s been the fucking problem all along, Divya’s been waiting for Cameron to offer him something he’s clearly not interested in doing. 

Which, you know what, that’s fine. Divya can respect that, even if he thinks he deserved a better explanation than some milquetoast third tier crew bro named _Preston_. He’s not going to sit around waiting for the tables to turn, so he digs the slip of paper he’s been carrying around for weeks out of his pocket, and finally gives Shannon a call. 

**October 2003**

Takumi and his girlfriend are camped out on the couch playing GameCube when Divya gets back from his meeting, throwing his jacket onto a chair before flopping down into it. He’s so fucking tired.

“Meeting went that bad, huh?” Takumi asks, not looking up from the screen. 

“Our programmer dropped,” Divya says. 

“What, another one?” Takumi says, actually pausing the game this time, the loud metallic pings stopping. 

“Oh no, Lauren?” Takumi’s girlfriend Mirriam says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “She seemed so nice.” 

Divya rubs a hand over his forehead. It was just supposed to be a normal check-in meeting to see how she was doing with getting the functionality of the site up. It was going totally fine, but then suddenly she was sobbing very loudly in the middle of a coffee house about how much more intense her classes are than she expected and how she _can’t_ lose her scholarship and there’s a female barista coming over and asking if everything is alright _very pointedly_ at Divya. Like he did a single goddamn thing except hire this now-sobbing programmer to design a website. 

“Oh, hey,” Takumi says, and Divya grunts in response, head tipped back against the chair and eyes closed, “the Ripped Van Winklevosses called for you.”

“Which one?” Divya asks, opening his eyes but not moving. 

“Dude, you know I can’t tell them apart over the phone, I can barely tell them apart in person. I just guess based on who’s sitting closest to you because that’s usually Cameron.” 

“Did they leave a message?” Divya asks, sitting up and pointedly ignoring the last part of what Takumi said. 

“Yeah, he just said they were going to the gym if you wanted to join after your meeting.” 

It’s about the last thing Divya wants to do right now is to go to the fucking gym, but at least if he can deliver this news when the twins are on a post-workout endorphin high the likelihood of Tyler breaking something goes way down. 

He’s not helping Cameron spackle a dorm wall. 

Again. 

At the gym, Divya spots Tyler, who is over using the free weights with Ethan. 

“Div- _YA_!” Ethan says, totally dropping his spotting form for Tyler to wave at him. 

“Fucker, pay attention!” Tyler says, struggling a little with the bar. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Ethan says, helping Tyler set the bar back on the rest. 

Tyler pulls himself out from under the bar. “Hey, how’d the meeting go?” Divya makes a face. “Oh, that excellent, then.” 

“I’ll tell Cam,” Divya says. Cameron’s on the stairmaster, thick headphones on, and Divya knows from personal experience it’s not worth bothering him until he’s done. 

“You’re a braver man than me, brother,” Tyler says, sliding back under the bar. “Ethan I swear to god if you don’t stop ogling that attendent I’m going to drop one of these on your foot.” 

“Well maybe if you got your dumb website up and running faster this wouldn’t be a prob- _Ow!_ ” 

“I’m going to go for a run,” Divya says. “Come get me when Cameron’s done with his masochist stair hour.” 

“‘Run,’” Tyler says, making air quotes. 

“Alright, fuck off,” Divya says. 

“Enjoy your jog!” Tyler calls after him. 

Divya gets about halfway through an episode of _Judge Judy_ on one of the big mounted TVs on the wall when Cameron appears at his side, still a bit red in the face and disgustingly sweaty from the stairmaster. 

“Hey,” Divya says, forcing himself to sound less out of breath than he is and pulling out his ear buds. He hits the end button, the treadmill slowing under his feet. 

“Hey, no rush, I’m just going to go change,” Cameron says, tugging on the towel slung over his shoulders. 

“Nah I’m basically done anyways,” Divya says, trying not to be gross and watch beads of sweat trickle down Cameron’s temple. He kind of fails. 

“How was your power walk?” Tyler asks sweetly as Divya wipes down his treadmill. 

“You’re such a dick,” Divya says. “Why am I even friends with you?” 

Tyler unties his gross sweaty headband, flicking it in Divya’s direction. “Package deal my friend, not my fault Cameron imprinted on you like a baby duck.” 

“I think that’s actually an urban legend,” Divya says, throwing his antiseptic wipe in the trash. 

“Oh my god, Ethan you are _killing_ me!” Tyler says, entirely ignoring what Divya just said and gesturing across the gym to where Ethan is leaned over the reception desk and chatting with a petite blonde girl with her hair in a high ponytail. Tyler cups his hands over his mouth and calls “Yo! EASY MAC! C’mon! We’re going!” 

Ethan makes a vague gesture along the lines of ‘I’ll catch up,’ and even though Divya’s not really in that much of a rush, he lets Tyler hustle him out of the gym and into the lobby to wait for Cameron, who reemerges from the locker room looking significantly less damp. 

“Where’s Ethan?” He asks, pulling his coat on. 

“Semi-pathetic attempts at flirting with the— ” 

“ —Read it and _fucking_ weep Winklevoss!” Ethan shouts, holding a piece of paper over his head triumphantly. “Her name is Kitsey, she’s a bio-chem major, and she gave me her number.” 

“Kitsey? She got a friend Muffy and Bitsy for me and Divya?” 

“Fuck off,” Ethan says. “Let’s see if I ever hook you up with a double date.” 

Cameron catches Divya’s eye and smirks as they follow behind Ethan and Tyler who are still bro-fighting. 

Tyler already knows something is up, and Divya would frankly be shocked if Cameron hasn’t put together that his showing up at the gym has more to do with the meeting and less to do with improving his cardio. Even still, he thinks waiting until they’ve eaten will make the whole thing go over smoother. 

Divya knows Ethan would probably make the same dumb joke about how the twins are like two big dogs and Divya is like a very uptight dog handler (a comment he’s made more than once). But it’s not _his_ fault that sometimes the habits of very athletic dogs and very athletic college students overlap. 

Cameron winces when they’re climbing the stairs back up to the twins’ double room and then tries to hide it. Divya’s tried to interrogate Cameron about his frankly very bizarre seeming workout rituals before, and it’s never ended in any further clarity so he’s stopped trying. 

“Alright, so,” Divya says, the moment he sits down. 

“Let me guess,” Tyler says. “She’s going to work for Yahoo.” 

“What?”

“You know, cause we lost our last dude to Google? It was a joke, Divya.” 

“Wait, what’s going on?” Cameron says, leaning over a chair. 

“Lauren’s dropping the project. She says she’s already overwhelmed with her classes and she can’t handle something this big on top of that,” Divya says very calmly, Cameron’s whole body already tensing into high-alert mode. 

“Fuck,” Tyler says. “Does anyone else feel like this project is cursed?” 

“Okay, drama queen. Two programmers is not that many, we just need to find someone who’s a little more,” Cameron makes a vague hand gesture. “Robust. Who can handle the stress.” 

“Sure, I’ll just put that on the help wanted ad,” Divya says and then because he knows Cameron and knows exactly where this is going, “Alright, alright, save the pep talk Cam, I’m just being a dick, I know we’ll find someone else. It’s just frustrating, and it really didn’t help that clearly everyone in the fucking cafe thought I was doing something horrible to this poor sobbing girl.” 

“Heartbreaker,” Tyler says, tucking his arms behind his head. 

Cameron pats Divya on the shoulder, stupid giant ridiculous hands. “I appreciate you going, I bet that wasn’t easy.” 

“It’s my job,” Divya says. 

He still thinks Harvard Connection is a good idea, he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t think it was, but he’s never been good at delegating to other people, and his issues with letting go have not exactly been helped by having two people leave the project already. Depending on other people is exhausting sometimes.

“Let’s just try and keep our eyes open and keep moving forward,” Cameron says, never one to let an opportunity to make an impassioned speech slide. 

“Weird thing for a competitive rower to say,” Tyler says, not quite ducking fast enough when Cameron throws a half-empty water bottle at him.

Tyler’s trying to set Divya up. 

Again. 

“Dude, c’mon, we do this every time,” Tyler says. “Don’t you trust me to know your type by now— and don’t bring up the thing with that guy from the Fly because that was a fluke and you know it.” 

“I don’t have time to date,” Divya says, unbothered; he’s had this argument so many times he could honestly probably have it in his sleep. “And now you’re going to say I have time to go on one date, and probably imply that you and Cam are busier than me and _you_ still manage to go on dates.” 

“That’s not charming, Div,” Tyler says. “Besides, we _are_ too busy to date.” 

Divya deliberately ignores the second half of that sentence.“I’m not trying to be charming, I’m trying to be right.” 

“Look,” Tyler says. “I know we all agree that getting girl’s numbers — people’s numbers — is bullshit, that’s why we’re making the whole fucking site in the first place. But in the meantime, you can’t turn down the elegance of a good old-fashioned referral. Divya. C’mon, you’re fucking killing me. Let me help you help yourself get laid.” 

“Why do you care so much if I’m getting laid anyways?” Divya says, a little too loudly and a girl two tables over shushes them. He’s going off-script a little bit, but he’s tired of having the same argument over and over again. 

Tyler’s eyebrow’s scrunch. “C’mon, you know why.” 

Divya gives him an incredulous look of his own. “No, I don’t, that’s why I’m asking.” 

“Div. Divya. Mister Narendra,” Tyler says like he’s being very difficult. “You _know_ why.” 

“Brother, I really, truly, and sincerely do not know what you’re talking about.” 

Tyler purses his lips, darting a quick glance before leaning in closer and tilting his head in the direction of Cameron at the table beside theirs, a thick pair of headphones over his ears, highlighter furiously flying across the page of his textbook. 

“I know I kinda fucked up your whole,” he gestures vaguely, “Thing. In freshman year. I’m atoning for my crimes, let me atone a nice lady — or gent — into your bed.” 

Divya considers this for a long moment. “Tyler. What in the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Look, we all know if me and Cameron hadn’t accidentally Parent Trapped you, you totally would have hooked up again after the whole Kappa Sig thing.” 

“It was Sigma Chi,” Divya says. Why is he saying that? It’s not important. “Plus, that doesn’t— we weren’t going to— it wasn’t anything to do with you we just, we just didn’t.” 

“Look, all I’m saying is that my dad always says it doesn’t matter how good a first impression is if you don’t make a good second impression. I fucked up your second impression of Cam and you guys never hooked up again. Coincidence? I think not.” 

“Wow. What are you doing kicking around the Harvard Economics department? We need to get your skills of deduction into the CIA.” 

“Alright, don’t be a dick,” Tyler says. “I’m just saying if stuff hadn’t happened the way it happened….maybe stuff would have happened that didn’t happen.” 

“Descriptive.” 

“Divya. She’s cute, she’s funny, she’s not looking for anything serious and I _know_ she’s your type. Let me be your wingman, c’mon.” 

“If I let you set me up with this girl, will you finally fucking chill about this atonement whatever?” 

“Cross my heart,” Tyler says, and then does, like the overgrown boy scout he is, foregoing his homework entirely to pull open his laptop and start drafting an email. 

KC is, frustratingly, exactly Divya’s type and they have a very pleasant and very low-stakes drink on a Tuesday night at a bar that Divya’s never been to but has always meant to check out. 

“So how do you know Tyler again?” Divya asks, sipping from the dark Belgian beer he’d ordered because it had seemed like the classiest beer on the menu. 

“Oh, it’s a funny story actually,” KC says. “My friend Ella broke up with one of the guys he rows with and it was pretty messy, so like, she had me go to bring this box of stuff her ex had left at her place, and I guess this guy felt the same because he sent Tyler to bring a box of her stuff. So we’re both like, standing around Harvard Square awkwardly with these boxes of stuff for like, twenty minutes because I’m looking for her ex and he’s looking for Ella. Anyways, we finally figure it out and have a laugh about it, whatever, never gonna see this guy again,” she takes a sip of her wine and the lipstick she’s wearing leaves a faint kiss on the rim of the glass. 

“And then like a month later he comes into the campus clinic for like, a shoulder thing I guess? I don’t remember. I’m there waiting too and we start chatting because it’s backed up and we’re both waiting and he told me about your whole website idea, right? Which I thought was so smart because, yeah, it’s really intimidating to ask someone for a phone number. But like, it’s going to take a while to get a site like this up and running so that kind of sucks in the meantime. And _then_ he starts talking like, oh yeah my friend Divya this, my friend Divya that, and he literally _pulls out_ this photo of you from his wallet and I thought you were cute so when he was like, do you want me to set you up,” she shrugs, “I said okay.”

“And that...worked?” 

KC hums. “I mean, I thought it was kind of weird, but I also thought you were cute and Tyler seemed pretty nice. Like, I’ve met crew bros and a lot of them are just total assholes, but I thought if this crew boy was trying to set up his friend then maybe he was kind of special.” 

“Well, uh, thank you I guess,” Divya says. “For taking a chance on me.” 

“You’re very welcome,” KC says taking another sip of wine. “But I want you to know I do have mace in my bag.” 

God. She really is Divya’s type. 

It’s nice, they have a nice time, he likes her a lot and they both seem on the same page about not jumping into anything too serious too fast. He gives her his number at the end of the evening with the promise that they should do this again sometime. 

“Alright asshole,” Divya says into Tyler’s answering machine, because it’s 11:26 pm and he’s already in bed. “You were right, I was wrong. She’s very nice. Now can you please stop pimping me out with wallet photos, your crimes have been fully atoned.” 

The apartment is quiet when he gets back because Miriam’s roommate is out of town this week and, understandably, Takumi has been spending a lot of time over there. Divya tosses his keys into the dish by the door and boots up his laptop on the coffee table. Everything feels a little soft and warm around the edges from the three beers he had, but he should probably at least try and take a crack at some problem sets homework. 

He can tell he’s definitely not on his A-game, but he sinks into the rhythm easy enough, and he’s honestly surprised when his phone rings, snapping him out of his focus, and it’s been over an hour. 

The caller ID says Cameron Winklevoss, which is weird given that he’s usually been in bed for hours at this point, so Divya’s a bit on edge when he answers. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi! Hey,” Cameron says, voice rushing with relief. “Did I wake you up?” 

“Uh, no,” Divya says. “I was just doing homework. What’s up?” 

“I just realized I left my hoodie at your place yesterday and it has my boathouse keys in it,” Cameron says. “Sorry, I know it’s late, can I come grab them?” 

Divya looks over at the microwave clock; it’s not even 1 am. “Yeah dude it’s fine, come over.” 

“Cool, I’ll be there in fifteen? Sorry again, Div, I know this is a pain.” 

“Hey, just happy to help.” 

Cameron’s there in just under twelve minutes, which is pretty good time for him. Tyler’s always been more of a runner and even did cross country for a few years before dropping it to focus on crew. Divya always thought Cam had more of the temperment for that kind of sport, the relentless pursuit and endurance of it, but he’d spent enough time with athletes by now to realize that personality and performance often line up less than you’d expect. 

“Hey,” Cam says a little breathless, hair all sleep-tousled. “Sorry about this, I just woke up to get water and I was thinking about tomorrow morning and just. Realized I didn’t have my keys.” 

“Of course,” Divya says. “No problem. Are you gonna come in or…?” 

“Um,” Cameron says. “Yeah, sure I can come in for a second.” 

“Your hoodie’s on the chair,” Divya says. “I was going to make tea, do you want tea? I have herbal and decaf to not disturb your beauty sleep.” Divya only buys decaf now, because it’s all Cam will drink.

He knows Cameron is going to say no, mission accomplished now that he’s retrieved his keys, from Point A to Point B and back. But it feels polite to ask. 

“Yeah, okay, sure,” Cameron says.

“Living on the edge,” Divya says, mostly to himself, trying not to seem outwardly surprised.

He doesn’t ask Cameron what kind of tea he wants, he knows enough by now that he’ll take whatever Divya’s having. Never let it be said that Cameron Winklevoss is unable to defer to an expert. 

Cameron blinks a little blearily, sitting at the small kitchen table that Takumi had rescued from the side of the road somewhere. “Thanks again. I really didn’t wanna have to call and wake up Preston.” 

“It’s like, one in the morning, this is a very normal-person time to be up, he’s probably awake,” Divya says.

“Still...” Cameron taps his hands gently on the table. “Where’s Takumi?” 

“His girlfriend’s place, her roommate is out of town for the week so they’re giving me a break.” 

“That’s considerate.” 

“They’re honestly not loud or anything it’s just. Awkward knowing they’re having sex and pretending I don’t. Like, they’ll try and talk extra loud after to cover the fact and it’s just like. We’re all adults I’m just going to politely pretend I wasn’t paying attention. Because I wasn't.”

“Totally, yeah no it’s the same when Ty brings girls over.” 

Divya thinks it’s probably weirder, both because Tyler is his brother and because there’s the whole dealing with girls who have kind of seen him naked. But he doesn’t think Cam wants to hear any of that, so he just wordlessly sets Cam’s mug on the small chipped portico table. 

“I get that you didn’t want to call Preston,” Divya says before he can stop himself. 

They’ve never really talked in anything more than allusions about why Cameron and Preston were dating one day and not the next. Not that he had any problems with that, the less he had to hear about Preston the happier he was. 

“I mean if you were asleep I would have, I’m not the one who has a problem with him.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Cameron fiddles with one of the shakers on the table. “C’mon, I’m not stupid, I know you didn’t like him.” 

“Preston’s fine.” 

Cameron makes a face. 

“Okay fine, I didn’t really like him. But what he pulled with your dad was so inappropriate, and— ” 

“ —No no, don’t pull that bullshit, you didn’t like him _way_ before that happened.” 

Divya puts his mug down, feeling caught and small, he needs some space from this conversation. From Cameron, but when he tries to step away Cameron catches him by the arm, “Div, cmon I’m not— I’m not mad. I just. Be honest with me.”

“Be honest with you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Alright. Okay,” Divya says. And it’s weird, how inevitable this feels. Like it was always going to come bubbling to the surface eventually, ever since that day in Cameron’s old dorm when he saw the two of them together. “Alright. Cards on the fucking table? I don’t hate Preston, but I kind of hate you for parading him around in front of me.” 

Cameron’s face flashes hurt, but he quickly schools it into something more neutral, and god Divya could punch him for that. Only not really. Not at all. “What are you talking about?” 

“I was there,” Divya says, his icy cool resolve quickly spinning away from him like a bike in high gear running down a hill. “I was right there! I was waiting for you Cam and you went and picked someone else, what the fuck am I supposed to— ”

Cameron stands abruptly, and Divya steps back instinctively. He expects Cameron to stay where he is. Always the gentleman, always aware of what it means to be six foot five and half as wide, but he doesn’t this time. Doesn’t yield. 

He grabs Divya by the collar, surges forward, and kisses him. It’s messy and desperate and Divya can practically taste the ghost of shitty Sigma Chi beer, like it’s been seconds since they last kissed and not three excruciatingly long years. He can feel Cameron start to pull away, probably to apologize, make some excuse and say that he’s tired and stressed and wasn’t thinking. So he grabs him tight by the scruff of his neck and keeps him there until he relaxes, hands letting go of Divya’s collar and lifting up to cradle his jaw. 

“I didn’t know you were waiting,” Cameron says, eyes closed, face still pressed close to Divya’s. “I don’t leave people waiting.” 

Divya kisses him and hopes it says everything he can’t quite say; _I know_ and _you’re an asshol_ e and _I want you_ and _I forgive you_. 

There’s pushing and pulling and fumbling and reluctant letting go on the way to Divya’s room, but they’re back on each other before the door has even clicked closed. 

“Div, fuck,” Cameron says, pupils blown wide, hair mussed from more than sleep as Divya gives him a hard shove onto the bed. 

“Fucker,” Divya says, and climbs into his lap, Cameron’s big stupid ridiculous perfect hands pressed into his back, urging him closer and closer and closer. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Cameron pants out as Divya starts kissing his way down his neck. His skin is so warm even though he just ran over in the November chill. 

“You’re such an asshole,” Divya says. 

“I know, I know,” Cameron pants, sounding half dazed. Like he’d agree to anything Divya said at this point. His hands press harder into Divya’s back and suddenly they’re flipping over, Divya’s back hitting the mattress as Cam hovers over him, kissing the underside of his jaw and rubbing a hand over Divya’s hip. Time stops mattering for a while, everything stops mattering for a while except the press of Cameron’s mouth and his hands and then—

“You’re hard,” Divya says. He can feel him against his hip and shit, that fact entirely bypasses his brain and goes straight to his dick. He did that. Him. Divya Narendra. He feels like Harvard should award him some kind of special commendation for service to the school. 

“Is that okay?” Cameron says, sounding a little embarrassed, so Divya starts fumbling for Cameron’s belt buckle.

“I got it, I got it,” Cameron says, and then suddenly he’s rolling off the bed, scrambling to get his pants off. And then. Well. Everything else. It happens so fast that Divya doesn’t even have time to try and stop it from escalating. Cam is fully clothed, and then, suddenly, he’s pulling off his second sock. 

And okay. Look. 

Divya is not stupid. 

Cameron is six foot five. He’s also genetically identical to a certain other Winklevoss who Divya lived with for an entire summer and who had a somewhat loose grasp on the concept of ‘fully clothed.’ He had _ideas_ about certain measurements. But there’s suspecting and then there’s seeing. 

“Dude, what in the fuck is your dick,” Divya says without even really meaning to. “You’re gonna put someone’s fucking eye out with that thing.” 

Cameron flushes and it carries down onto his chest. “Sorry, I. I should have asked, I can like— ” he starts to reach for his discarded boxer briefs. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Divya says, trying to simultaneously grab Cameron and take off his own pants. He’s not doing a particularly successful job at either, but Cam gets the message. He always does. 

Eventually. 

Cam doesn’t sleep over after. Which doesn’t surprise Divya at all, especially given that Cameron and Tyler are usually on the Charles before 6 am anyways, it would basically just be a nap at this point. 

They’re both pretty quiet after, discussions of ‘what does this mean’ silently agreed to be left for later. 

Maybe that’s why Cameron doesn’t kiss him goodnight (good morning?) either, but he leans in close and rubs a thumb over Divya’s eyebrow, and says, “I’ll see you in, uh,” he checks his watch, “Seven hours?” 

“Seven hours.” Divya agrees, which, oh god, shoot him. He has class in less than five hours. 

“Til then,” Cameron says, he hesitates for a moment, and for a second Divya has the impulse to do something stupid, like beg him to stay. “Hey, let’s. Let’s not tell anything Tyler just yet.” 

“Agreed,” Divya says, half relieved. 

“Cool,” Cam says, and then turns and jogs down the stairwell.

He shuts and locks the door behind Cam, resigned to his pitiful excuse for a full night’s sleep when he glances into the kitchen and spots their tea mugs still on the table, undoubtedly stone cold. 

Divya leaves them there like an admission of guilt. 

Or a trophy. 

Despite their joint agreement that they won’t tell Tyler, at least not right away, Divya’s heart still drops into his stomach when at breakfast the next morning Tyler drops into the seat beside him with a grin and says, “So. How was last night?” 

Divya half chokes and ends up spluttering coffee onto his polo shirt. “ _What!?_ ” 

“With KC, how’d it go? I got your message but I want to hear it in person.” 

_Oh._

“Right. Shit, yeah. No it was nice. It was good,” Divya says. Christ that was barely even twelve hours ago. 

“See I told you,” Tyler says, smugly, attacking his omelette like it personally offended him. “I told you!” 

“You told him what?” Cameron asks, he’s wearing a pullover sweater zipped up a little higher than he’d usually wear it and Divya feels like he can’t look at all of him at once. Like if he did it would be the same as admitting everything. 

“Our dear Mister Narendra went on a date last night,” Tyler says, oblivious of course to all of this. 

Cameron makes a little wounded surprised sound like he stepped on a nail, eyes flickering to Divya too quickly. 

“It wasn’t really a date,” Divya says, calm, controlled. “We just had drinks. It was fun but nothing super serious.” 

“Remember I told you about the girl I met when I was trying to get Brent’s things back for him,” Tyler says, jostling Cameron a bit with his elbow. “Was I right about her or was I right? She’s totally your type.” 

“Do you want a fucking medal or something? I already said I had a good time,” Divya snaps, voice somehow too soft and too brittle all at once. 

“Wow okay, fuck me for trying to do a nice favour for a friend.” 

“I never asked you to play Yenta just because you feel bad that you— that— I didn’t ask, Tyler. So stop acting like I need to throw myself at your feet for it.” 

Cameron’s mouth is pressed into a tight line but his eyes are far too wide.

Divya’s braced for Tyler to call him an asshole, or to just get up and stomp off, dump his breakfast all over Divya’s lap; he’s not prepared for him to lean forward and go, “Div, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I just need another fucking coffee,” Divya says and escapes before any more members of the Winklevoss family appear to make big sad puppy eyes at him. 

He’ll text Tyler later and make some excuse about not getting enough sleep.

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

“You guys hear about this?”

“What?” Cameron says, eyes darting up and then away just a little too quickly. 

“Two nights ago a sophomore choked the network from a laptop at Kirkland.”

“Really?”

“At 4 am.”

“How?” 

“He set up a website where you vote on the hotness of female undergrads. What were we doing that none of us heard about this?” It’s out of Divya’s mouth before he’s done the math, two nights ago. The night Cam forgot his keys. It is an exceptionally stupid mistake for a math major to make. Cameron doesn’t even flinch.

“I don’t know, a three hour low-rate technical row before breakfast, a full course load, studying, another three hours in the tank and then studying. I don’t know how we missed it.'' He rattles it off like an alibi, always presentable, always prepared.

Divya should be thankful when Tyler jumps in, when the conversation eases forward, his mistake and their indiscretion smoothed over. 

He should be thankful, but he can’t stop thinking about how Cameron didn’t have flinch. 

How he really wanted Cam to flinch.

Divya jolts awake at the sound of someone banging on his front door. He groans, rolling over and catching sight of the time, 7:38 am. 

“C’mon,” he mutters to himself, annoyed that his only day to sleep in is being interrupted by Takumi having forgotten a textbook or contact solution or something else inane and stupid. Divya chains the door shut when he’s asleep, so even if he’d remembered his keys (and that could be a pretty big if with Takumi) he wouldn’t be able to get in anyways.

“I’m fucking coming,” he mutters, throwing a robe on as the banging picks up speed and urgency. 

He unchains the door and opens it but instead of Takumi it’s—

Since the winter semester of freshman year, Divya has never once mixed up Tyler and Cameron. Not once. And not because he was trying hard not to, it just became impossible to once he’d gotten to know them better, they just look different to him. Their mannerisms, the way they dress, their speech patterns. 

Which is why it scares him when, for a split second, he looks at Tyler and sees Cameron. Like he wanted to see Cam so badly his brain just substituted in the information. 

But then he blinks and no, that’s Tyler. That’s so obviously Tyler. 

“Did I wake you up?” Tyler asks, not sounding apologetic so much as judgey, letting himself inside without being invited. 

“I don’t have class Wednesday mornings,” Divya says, shutting the door behind him, “Remember?” 

Tyler makes a noncommittal noise and flops down onto the couch. “Look I’m just going to come right out and say it. Cam told me what happened.” 

“He told you _what_ happened?” Divya says, his brain still booting up. He’s running through their Harvard Connection meeting at half speed trying to remember if they’d discussed something more than trying to bring Zuckerberg on board. 

“Divya,” Tyler says and suddenly the clouds part. 

“Oh, fuck,” Divya says, dropping into a chair of his own. 

“Yeah. That,” Tyler says. 

Divya puts his head into his hands and just stays there for a long while, he hears Tyler get up and rummage around his cupboards for a minute before coming back and sitting down. Normally he’d call Tyler out for helping himself to his food, but Divya needs most of his focus to concentrate on not having a mental breakdown in front of his best friend. 

He finally exhales, rubbing a hand over his face and looking at Tyler who is eating from a box of Ritz crackers nonchalantly. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” Divya says. 

“Ready for what?” Tyler says, chewing with his mouth open. 

“I don’t know, whatever you came here to do. Shovel talk? Brutal roasting? Just get it over with.” 

“Dude,” Tyler says, hand stilling in the box of crackers. “That’s not fair. Is that— did you really think I was going to be mad?” He looks so wounded at the idea, and Divya feels guilty even if he thinks he’s at least kind of justified in his assumption. 

“Maybe. I don’t know Tyler, it doesn’t seem like a good sign when someone comes banging your door down at 7:30 am to be like, hey I know you fucked my brother.” 

“I’m not mad,” Tyler says. “I mean I have, uh, concerns, because you’re both my bros and I don’t want this to make anything weird or whatever.” 

“I was going to tell you,” Divya says, wishing he’d bothered to put clothes on because something about him in boxers and a robe while Tyler is still wearing his literal winter jacket is making this so much weirder than it needs to be. 

“That’s what Cam said,” Tyler wipes his nose. 

“What did Cameron say,” Divya asks. “Specifically.” 

“Well, frankly most of it wasn’t really about you. It was about me and how he felt awful keeping it from me blah blah blah because family always comes first and trust is everything, blah blah blah.” Tyler eats another cracker. “He’s really sensitive about that kind of thing.” 

“I know,” Divya says, wishing they were having this conversation in the pleasant mid-afternoon. “Did you come here straight from crew?” 

“Yeah, he always tells me shit like that when we’re rowing,” Tyler says. 

“He told you at practice?” 

“Yeah, I think it’s easier for him cause we’re not looking at each other, you know? Or well, I mean, he’s not looking at me. Same thing happened when he told me he was gay.” 

Divya bites the inside of his mouth. It seems absurd to be envious of Cameron’s literal identical twin brother, but every once in a while Tyler will say something Divya doesn’t know about Cameron with such perfect and assured clarity that it hits Divya hard that he might have more blind spots when it comes to Cam than he can possibly realize.

“So,” Tyler says, putting the box of crackers down and leaning forward, “Is this going to be like a casual thing? I mean, you’re not. Are you dating?” 

Divya blinks. “No, of course not.” 

Even though it’s not— they haven’t even _talked_ about it yet but it hadn’t felt like that was the direction it was going in. Divya’s not even sure what direction he wanted it to go in, but it’s already out of his mouth and Tyler is nodding and it’s not like he can take it back now. 

“Cool, cool, okay,” Tyler says. “Well, uh, I guess like. Be safe then and don’t hurt each other and have fun.” 

“Be safe?” 

Tyler gives him a look and holds out his hands a shockingly accurate distance apart. “I know the deal.” 

“Alright, alright, Christ. Get out of my house.” 

“Yeah, I wanna shower,” Tyler says, stretching as he stands. “I’ll see you later? We’re going to try and grab Zuckerberg after class and we’ll bring him to the Porc.” 

“Sounds good,” Divya says, barely listening. He wishes he could have talked to Cam first, but at the same time. If he hasn’t come to him by now then, well, he’s probably not wanting this to be anything more serious or complicated than it needs to be. 

“Oh also,” Tyler says, turning in the doorway. “If it’s not an exclusive thing I am happy to keep my net thrown out for you.” 

“Sure,” Divya says, in for a penny in for a pound. “Why not.” 

“You’re going to wear the floor down and break out the other side,” Cameron says. “Div, calm down.” 

“I am calm,” Divya says, not pausing in his pacing across the length of the twins’ dorm. “I’m thinking.” 

“That never ends well,” Tyler says. “If you’re thinking can I have your lo mein?” 

“Don’t eat my fucking food,” Divya says. “You’re like a human fucking garbage disposal.” 

“Hurtful,” Tyler says around a mouthful of unidentified Chinese food. 

“Div, c’mon, it’s not a big deal. We’ve got an alternative meeting date set up,” Cameron says. 

“I know, I just,” Divya says. “I think we used the wrong approach with him. Playing up the dating angle seemed like it would be the most appealing to him, but— ” 

“Dude, you read his blog,” Tyler says. “He’s clearly hurting in the romance department.” 

Divya feels Cam’s eyes flicker to him, but he doesn’t stop pacing. 

“Tyler’s right,” Cameron says after a moment. “I think we presented it as best we could, I think he’s just a little— ” 

“Weird?” Tyler supplies. 

“I was going to say eccentric,” Cameron says diplomatically. 

Divya can’t say what he’s thinking because there’s no way to say it that doesn’t sound mean, but despite what Cam and Tyler think, that conversation wasn’t between the four of them, it was between him and Mark. Divya knows he fucked something up, but he can’t put his finger on exactly what. 

“Okay, seriously you gotta stop, you’re giving me motion sickness,” Tyler says, sticking out a leg like he’s trying to trip him. “Sit down and eat your dinner.” 

“If you wanna go for a run I’d go with you,” Cameron offers. “Work off some of that energy.” 

Tyler mutters something under his breath that Divya can’t make out, but he can guess the general idea. 

“Nah, I’d rather have a drink,” he says and finally sits down. 

“Very subtle,” Tyler says, but he’s already on his feet to grab him a beer from the fridge, tossing it easily across the room. 

“I’m sorry you had to clear your evening,” Cameron says, digging around his own takeout container with a fork. Divya shouldn’t be charmed by that but somehow he is. 

“Oh no, now I have to hang out with you guys _not_ doing business stuff,” Divya deadpans, “My worst nightmare.” 

“Still,” Cam says, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s annoying.” 

Divya doesn’t know if Cameron knows (suspects?) that he was vaguely planning on seeing KC tonight, before it looked like they were going to have a site meeting. Him and Cameron still haven’t talked about what exactly they’re doing, but Divya figures at this point that ship has sailed. Or perhaps rowed itself away. 

“Well, not that this isn’t delightful,” Divya says. “But if we’re not actually meeting about the site I should probably get a jump start on stuff for later this week.” 

“Of course,” Cameron says. “Honestly, that’s probably what we should be doing.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Tyler says, stretching to reach for the landline.“I, for one, have a phone date with a special lady.” 

“He’s talking about our mom, he’s gonna call mom,” Cameron says. 

“I’m gonna tell her you implied she’s not a special lady,” Tyler calls over his shoulder, taking the phone into his room. Divya can hear him a second later, voice jumping up an octave to ‘Talking With Parents’ mode. 

Cameron exhales hard through his nose, holding Divya’s eye contact for a long moment. “Mama’s boy.” 

Divya resists the urge to make a comment about the fact that he knows Cameron emails his dad twice a day, gathering up his scarf and gloves from where they’re draped over a chair. 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Cameron asks. 

“Protection for the mean 8:00 pm streets?” 

“Sure, or just some company,” Cam says studying the wall just to the left of Divya’s head very intently. 

He’s not scared to be alone with Cameron, that would be ridiculous, but he does consider the fact that they haven’t really been alone together since Cameron left his apartment at four in the morning over a week ago. Which makes them walking back to Divya’s apartment together into something perhaps, more inherently intimate than it ever has been. 

They’re mostly quiet as they walk through campus, which isn’t necessarily unusual, they’ve never felt the need to make conversation just to make it, but when they turn off campus into the student neighbourhood that Divya lives in Cam suddenly says, “So I guess we both kind of talked to Tyler.” 

“Mhmmm.” 

“I know I didn’t really give you a heads up on that one. I regret that.” 

“It’s fine,” Divya says, pulling his glove tighter into his coat sleeve. 

“Still, I wish I had— ” a group of tipsy upperclassmen come banging out of an apartment building across the street and Divya is vividly reminded of all the nights in freshman year Cameron walked him back to his dorm. 

Without any discussion, they’re both silent until well after the rowdy group has passed on the other side of the street. 

“I just want to apologize,” Cameron says. “For my. Lack of foresight. It truly was an in-the-moment decision, and while I don’t feel that it was the wrong thing to tell Tyler, I also understand that it put you in a certain position.” 

“Man, c’mon,” Divya says. “It happened. It’s okay, Tyler’s your literal twin, I know you don’t like keeping things from him.” 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve all the respect afforded to you,” Cameron insists. 

“Do you want me to be mad? Will it make you feel better if I’m mad so you can apologize? You crying because you felt bad about hooking up with me and not telling Tyler doesn’t make _me_ upset.” 

“Did he say I cried?” Cameron interjects. “What the hell, I didn’t cry. I was a little choked up _maybe_ , but I didn’t— he wouldn’t even _know,_ he couldn’t see my face!” 

“It was like a week ago I don’t remember the specifics, but he indicated that you were very...distraught, that’s all,” Divya says diplomatically. 

“Well. Okay then,” Cameron finishes. Lacklustre as they approach Divya’s apartment.

“Do you,” Divya says after a moment of deliberation. “Do you want to come up? I can make you some tea since uh. You didn’t actually get to drink any last time.”

“What kind of tea?” Cameron says, hands shoved deep into his coat pocket. The tips of his ears are going red and Divya can’t tell if it’s just from the cold or not. 

“The kind where I suck your dick?” Divya offers. 

“Oh yes please,” Cameron says, far too eager and Divya feels the weird iciness between them melt to a puddle as they practically race up his apartment stairwell. 

“Do you think he thought we were going to punch him for the Porcellian?” Divya asks later as Cameron is kissing his way up Divya’s chest from between his legs. 

“I— what?” Cameron says, face a little red, eyes a little dazed. 

“Zuckerberg,” Divya says. 

“What _about_ him Div?” 

“Do you think he thought we were going to punch him? I didn’t even— you guys grabbed him from class and brought him to the Porcellian, maybe he thought that’s what was happening.” 

Cameron blinks at him blearily. “Is that. Were you _thinking_ about Zuckerberg while I was sucking you off?” 

“..No,” Divya lies. 

Or, it’s not a lie exactly, he wasn’t thinking about him in the way Cam means, he was just thinking about the whole situation, broadly speaking. 

“Hold on, sorry,” Cameron says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t have this conversation while I can literally taste your cum in the back of my throat, gimme a second.” 

“Here, I’ll get you some water,” Divya says, kissing Cameron’s shoulder apologetically (even though he swallowed of his own free will), and grabbing his bathrobe off the back of the door. Cam is still sitting up and looking a little dazed when Divya comes back with a glass of water for him. He sips from it for a moment before leaning over to set it on Divya’s side table.

Cam clears his throat. “Okay. So, you think Zuckberberg is giving us the runaround because he thought we were punching him for the club and he’s pissy about that not being the case.” 

“I just think it’s possible,” Divya says. 

“And you were thinking about that while I was sucking you off because I was? Doing a bad job?” 

“Oh. My god,” Divya says dumbstruck. 

“What?” Cameron says, sounding wounded. He’s still naked and somehow it’s making the whole thing just the verge of hysterically funny. 

“You’re such a goddamn overachiever,” Divya says. “Don’t take it personally, my brain just doesn’t really fully shut off ever. It’s not— it’s not _you_.” 

“You can’t say shit like that and not think I’m going to take it as a challenge to suck your brain out of your cock.” 

“Oh no,” Divya deadpans, “I’d hate that.” 

Cameron’s hand is creeping up under his robe, groping at his thigh, and shit, his brain is really trying to convince his dick to forget about the entire concept of refractory period. 

“I love that you say cock,” Divya says, “It’s so— ” 

“If you say New England I’m going to tackle you,” Cam says. 

“Promise?” 

“You’re such an asshole, I literally grew up forty-five minutes away from the city.” 

“And what a difference those forty-five minutes make,” Divya retorts.

Cameron starts to pull his hand away. “Actually I should. I should probably get going.” 

“Oh, alright,” Divya says, tightening the belt on his robe. 

“It’s just kind of late,” Cameron continues weakly as Divya starts gathering his articles of clothing from off the floor. 

“No, no, you’re right. I had shit I wanted to do anyways,” Divya says, chucking Cameron’s khakis at him. 

“This was nice though,” Cameron says, running a hand through his hair and resting it on the back of his neck. 

Divya suddenly has the urge to kiss him, not to start anything, just to. Punctuate it somehow. But he’s pretty sure Cam will just read it as him trying to challenge his leaving, and Divya’s not about to put himself between Cameron Winklevoss and his insane schedule. So he just fiddles with some stuff on his desk until Cam is fully clothed again. 

“Hey,” Cam says, coming over and placing a hand (big, stupid, etc.) on Divya’s back, the warmth seeping through the fabric. “You might be right about Mark, we’ll restrategize before we meet up again.” 

“Sure, sounds good,” Divya says, and tries not to be a hypocrite for being disappointed that that’s all Cameron wanted to say. 

In hindsight Divya will realize that he and Cameron completely shot themselves in the foot by setting up a system wherein Mark Zuckerberg blowing them off just means they get to fuck. 

He’s, well he’s not _glad_ when he cancels on them, he’s still pissed about getting the runaround from some fucking Kirkland sophomore just because he thinks he’s hot shit, but he is perhaps less concerned about it than he maybe would have been under different circumstances where he’s not having awesome sex. 

Plus, in his defense, it’s annoying to have cleared his schedule for nothing, so at least getting something out of it is a nice consolation prize. 

They usually go back to Divya’s place since it’s not like Takumi can complain about him having overnight guests. Getting to avoid whatever the fuck Tyler would do if Divya walked out of Cam’s room looking like he just had his world rocked is just a nice bonus.

That is, until Tyler decides to throw them a curveball. 

“You know what,” Tyler says, very unsubtly, about ten minutes after Divya had gotten the email about Zuckerberg cancelling again, “I think I’m going to see if Ethan wants to go to the gym with me.” 

“Hmm, okay?” Cameron says, only briefly glancing up from the Alumni magazine he’s been reading. “Have fun.” 

“You know it,” Tyler says, waggling his eyebrows at Divya who flips him off with the hand not holding his Blackberry. 

Neither him nor Cam move when Tyler shuts the door behind him, but after a minute or so Divya clears his throat and says, “So— ” 

“Hold on,” Cameron says, holding up his hand, like he’s listening for something. 

Divya’s about to ask what the fuck he’s doing when suddenly the door swings back open, “Hey sorry forgot my gloves,” Tyler says, tromping back in and retrieving them from a seemingly random corner of the floor. 

“Alright, have fun,” Tyler says with a wave over his shoulder. “Ethan’s probably going to give me the Kitsey update so I wouldn’t be surprised if I was gone until ten.” 

‘Subtle,” Divya mouths at him and Tyler gives him a thumbs-up in return. 

It’s a bit weird to have your best friend wingman you for his brother, but Divya figures that he can’t be too picky in this situation. 

“You know I love you guys and I’ve always defended you when people think you’re creepy Shining synchro twins, but when you do shit like that it does genuinely freak me out.” 

“It’s not a twin thing, Tyler is always forgetting something,” Cam says, shutting the Alumni magazine and setting it on the coffee table. 

“Hmm,” Divya says noncommittally. 

Cam stands, stretching so his sweater rides up, exposing the skin above his hip bones. Divya gives him a skeptical look, because seriously, is Cameron Winklevoss actually stupid enough to _bait_ him? He expects Cameron to give him a smug once-over, maybe make a comment, but instead he’s got this tightly scrunched look on his face that Divya can’t read at all. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” he says, and then walks into his room, leaving Divya alone in the living room. 

What in the fuck? 

“Cam?” Divya calls after a minute. “What are you doing?” 

“Uhhh, one second,” Cameron says, uncharacteristically unsure, which is enough to make Divya actually get up and investigate what’s happening. 

“Hi,” Divya says, staring down in the doorway at Cam, shirtless, on the floor. Which sounds very tempting except for the fact that he’s clearly in pain. 

“I pulled my back earlier and I thought it was fine but I just twinged it really bad when I got up,” Cameron says, wincing. Divya can see the foam roller now under him, and again, this display would be all kinds of appealing as Cam literally thrusts his hips up to stretch his back, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s clearly breathing through a lot of pain. 

Divya crouches. “Can I help?” 

“Uhhhh,” Cam says. “Maybe? Fuck, ow.” He rolls back and forth for another few moments, inhaling and exhaling unevenly. 

Divya knows logically that Cam is probably fine, he’s gotten injured plenty of times and that anyone who spends hours a day exercising and training has both a lot of endurance and a pretty high pain tolerance. 

But it’s one thing to know that, and another to be watching his best friend literally on the floor in pain. 

“Okay,” Cam says a little unevenly after a few minutes. “Can you help me get up?” 

“Sure man,” Divya says, “Uh, here let me just…” 

It takes a few minutes and multiple attempts to get Cameron to his feet, Divya feeling more out of shape that he ever has in his _life_ by the time they finally get him onto his bed, Cameron collapsing onto his side away from Divya. 

“Can you— there’s Icy-Hot patches in the bathroom. Under the sink.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Divya nods. He finds them easily enough and then rummages around in the medicine cabinet until he finds painkillers. Cam didn’t ask but he figures at least now if he needs them later he won’t have to get up for them. 

“Cameron, I got it. Lie down, you moron,” Divya says when he walks back into Cameron’s room and he goes to sit up, wincing hard on his way up and on his way back down. Divya smooths the patch across his back, hands lingering perhaps a little longer than they should. But c’mon, he’s got a nice back. 

Cameron exhales through his nose heavily. “You are an actual saint.” 

“Never had anyone accuse me of that before,” Divya says, rubbing Cam’s shoulder. “Do I need to call Tyler or anything?” 

“I should be fine, I just need to relax.”

Divya’s about to make some crack about how then it’s probably a good thing that Tyler isn’t here when his Blackberry starts ringing in the other room. 

“Ahh shit, let me grab that,” Divya says. “You gonna be okay for a minute?” 

Cam presses his cheek into his pillow and nods; he looks like a sick little kid and Divya resists the urge to push his hair off his forehead. 

He manages to grab the phone on the last ring, pulling open the front door so he can step into the hall to take it. “Hello?” 

“Divya! Hey!” KC’s voice comes over the line bright and shining. “How are you?” 

“Hey, I’m good,” Divya says. “Finals haven’t killed me yet, so. Can’t complain.” 

She laughs, “That’s good.” 

“Look, I’m so sorry I’ve been kind of flakey lately. Our new programmer is an absolute nightmare.” 

“Hmm, well I’ll forgive you but I am going to hold it against you.” 

Divya laughs. “I guess that’s fair” 

“Listen, I was calling because my friend Thomas is having a house party this Thursday and I wanted to know if you’d wanna go?” 

“Uh, Thursday? Yeah that should work. I’ll tell Cam, uh Cameron and Tyler that we can’t do stuff that night.”

“Perfect,” She says. “I’ll send you the address. I think it’s mostly going to be BYOB so just bring whatever.” 

“Great,” Divya says, “I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then,” KC says, and then hangs up. 

She texts him the address right away along with a text that says _don’t flake on me Div I know krav maga (self taught)_ which shouldn’t make him grin as hard as it does. 

He’s never really done this before, seeing two people at once. There was a brief time in sophomore year where two different flings overlapped, but generally Divya is open to seeing other people more in theory than execution. It almost feels like it doesn’t count because he sees Cameron all the time anyway, so it’s not like he needs to go out of his way to meet up with him. 

He’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do if KC wants to start moving into a more serious direction, but he figures he can cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

Divya can see from the living room that Cameron’s still tucked over on his side when he walks back into the twins’ dorm, and he’s half expecting him to be asleep, but he figures he should check if he needs any help before he just abandons him.

Cameron’s not asleep though, when Divya comes back into his room, though his eyes are shut as he palms himself through his sweatpants, eyes snapping open when the floor creaks under Divya. 

You have to love the old school charm of a Harvard dorm. 

“Hi,” Divya says flatly. “You just gonna do that with the door open?” 

“I didn’t think I could get up,” Cam practically whines, but he’s still touching himself, like an invitation. Like a challenge. 

“Seems like you’re getting up just fine.” 

“It’s not about,” Cam lets out a breathy little gasp, “It’s not about getting off. Well it is, but it’s about the— the tension and release. Endorphin rush. Muscle relaxation.” 

“Mhmm,” Divya agrees mildly, moving to close the door. 

“It is,” Cameron protests. “It’s medicinal.” 

“Sure thing, Dr. Winklevoss,” Divya says, climbing into Cam’s bed behind him. 

They’ve never fooled around in here before, and Divya isn’t prepared for the overwhelming Cam smell of his sheets, taking him from zero to one hundred so fast Divya feels like his head is swimming. 

He reaches over Cam’s hip, replacing his hand with his own as they breathe and rock together, his nose pressed into the place where Cam’s neck meets his shoulder. 

“Fuck, Div,” Cameron says, reaching around and grabbing Divya’s ass, pulling him closer so Divya’s hips are flush against the back of his thigh, “Shit, keep doing that _fuck_. Fuck, don’t stop.”

Divya gets his other arm up under Cam so he can hold him still, they’re pressed entirely together, or well, as much as you can be pressed entirely together with an eight inch height difference, and Divya feels Cam melt against him as he comes, open mouth panting. 

“Did you just wipe your hand on my pants?” Cam says after a long moment, his eyes shut and face lax against the pillow. 

“No, you’re imagining things,” Divya lies, but Cameron knows he’s lying so it doesn’t really count. 

“Thank you for your services, Dr. Narendra.”

“Oh, you cannot call me that, both of my parents are doctors,” Divya says. 

“Sorry. Gimme a minute I can write you a prescription,” Cam says sleepily. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Divya says, petting over Cameron’s hip. “How’s your back?” 

“Mmm, better,” Cameron says, and Divya’s not even remotely surprised when his breath evens out into sleep. He hasn’t moved yet, partially because he doesn’t want Cameron to jolt awake, and one second he’s plotting how he can get up (and whether it’d be weird to go jerk off in the bathroom) and the next he’s drifting awake with his forehead sweating from being pressed against Cam’s back. 

“Shit,” Divya says, checking his watch. “Fuck.” 

Cameron makes a noise and blinks up at him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Tyler’s going to be back literally any minute and I refuse to have a morning after conversation with him when I didn’t even get to come,” Divya says, scrambling to his feet and trying to get his shirt to look less weirdly rumpled from falling asleep against Cam. 

“Sorry,” Cameron mumbles, sitting up slowly, experimentally. 

“It’s fine,” Divya calls, opening the door to his room and unplugging his laptop so he can put it back into his bag. “Seriously, not your fault. How’s your back?” 

“Tender, but better,” Cameron says, hair flopping into his eyes. “I’ll take it easy tomorrow and it should be fine.” 

“And by easy you mean you’re going to do everything you’d normally do just at half speed right?” Divya calls from the bathroom where he is speed-washing his one sticky hand. 

“Yeah, that’s taking it easy when you’re nationally ranked.” 

Divya rolls his eyes, grabbing his coat on and slinging on his laptop bag. “Well, don’t come crying to me next time you need a doctor prescribed hand-job.” 

He’s back in Cameron’s room, and it takes Divya a second to realize abruptly that his brain and his body went onto autopilot together like he was going to give Cam a goodbye kiss. 

And he’s certainly not going to do that, so they just stare at each other for a moment, Cam still blinking up at him blearily. 

“Uh, good night then,” Divya says, and then gets out of there before anything else weird can happen. 

Divya meets KC on Thursday night outside her friend’s house with a bottle of gin and a six pack of tonic water. She’s got her hair up in a bun and gold eyeshadow swept across her eyelids and Divya kind of wants to take a picture of her. 

“Hi, hi,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a literal year. How are the golden retrievers?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Tyler and whatshisface.” 

“Cameron,” Divya says before he realizes that she probably doesn’t care what his name is and that she was just asking to be nice. “You know, doing jock stuff.” 

KC laughs at that and takes the tonic water from him as they take the steps up the porch of this house. Divya has been to embarrassingly few house parties despite being a senior, but his social calendar has kind of narrowed to only going to parties with Cam and Tyler, which means Porcellian things, crew things, and the occasional frat party. So it’s genuinely really refreshing to go to a house party with ambient, not-too-loud music where people asking him personal questions doesn’t feel like a test. 

At least until a few hours in when they’re standing in the kitchen chatting and KC’s friend Alan asks “Wait, so how do you guys know each other?” while sipping red wine from a mason jar.

“Mutual friend,” Divya says, and he’s not trying to be vague, but KC gives him a funny little look. 

“That is like, the most boring possible answer that you could have given to that question,” KC says. “You remember Ella’s ex-boyfriend?” 

“Oh yeah, Crew Asshole?” Alan says, “You’re friend’s with him?” 

“Kind of,” Divya says, he’s hung out with Brent a few times but he wouldn’t call them anything approaching friends. “But he’s not the one who introduced us.” 

“He knows those twins, you know, the super tall ones?” KC says. She’s taller than him in her heels, but she’s leaned over into his shoulder affectionately. His hand is curled over her hip and Divya loves the warm feminine press of her against him. 

“Oh my god are we talking about the Winklevosses?” Another girl chimes in, looking up from her phone. Divya doesn’t remember what her name was, something unisex, like Jessie or Sam or whatever. “I took marketing with them and they’re _so_ weird. They’re like _always_ together, like make some friends who aren’t related to you, I dare you. Or you know. Buy some, you can afford it.”

KC smacks her lips together loudly, her and Alan making strong eye contact before she says, “Anyways, how are finals going for people?” and forcing the conversation to keep moving. 

Divya manages to stay put for a few minutes, listening vaguely to the sound of people he doesn’t know talking about their classes he doesn’t care about. 

“I’m uh, I think I need some air, excuse me for a minute,” Divya says, abandoning his drink on the counter and slipping out while he still has the element of surprise. 

When he gets onto the front porch he takes a long deep breath and tells himself to calm down. Tyler and Cameron are, objectively, kind of weird people, and he’s sure if he didn’t know them it would be easy to come to the same conclusion. 

He’s also frankly annoyed with them, completely illogically, because despite going out of his way to try and expand his social circle he’s ended up being their weird friend. The social climber. Again. 

He scrubs a hand over his face, counts to thirty and is about to go back inside when the door opens and KC’s there holding his gin. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry about that,” she says. “Morgan is just one of those people who doesn’t know when a conversation isn’t about her.” She rolls her eyes. “She probably just feels like she has to stick up for Ella, but like, that’s not cool, I told her off.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Divya says, and KC tilts her head at him. 

“Yeah, but still, I didn’t invite you to this party so you could listen to my friends bad-mouth your friends,” She’s edging closer, setting the gin on the railing. 

“Why did you invite me?” He asks. 

“You know why,” KC says, winding her arms over his shoulders. She’s taller than him in heels, but not by much. A more negligible height difference then he’s been used to as of late, that’s for sure. 

“Why don’t we get out of here?” She whispers, lips brushing against his ear and goosebumps erupt along Divya’s neck even though he’s in a sweater and she’s the one bare shouldered in December.

“Lets go,” he agrees, grabbing the gin and going willingly when KC winds his arm over her shoulder. 

For the most part, Divya would describe being in the Porcellian as like being in a fraternity that takes itself too seriously. 

Other times, like, for instance, when he is laying back on a very old mahogany table and chugging from a bottle of champagne that costs more than his rent while a group of men in identical tuxedos cheer for him like it is the end of days, Divya becomes acutely aware that maybe it’s more like being in a cult. 

He pulls off the bottle, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand and trying not to dribble all over himself. Cameron grabs the bottle with one hand and helps pull him into a sitting position with the other, and it would be so stupid easy to just keep going, wrap his arms around Cameron’s shoulders and kiss him while his mouth still tastes like champagne. 

He doesn’t though, of course, even if his head is spinning a little as he’s pulled all the way off the table so Cameron can lie back. He watches Cam’s throat bob as he chugs and everything else in the room kind of dims down to nothing except the dribble of champagne that drips from the corner of Cameron’s mouth and down the side of his throat. 

Tyler helps his brother up, but Cam’s eyes are locked with Divya’s as he hands off the bottle to someone else, they inhale and exhale together over the noise of the party. Just breathing. 

They don’t even have to say anything, Divya moving first and Cameron following close behind, catching up without any effort, coats retrieved from the valet, hasty and not very polite goodbyes issued. It’s snowing when they step outside, shoulders hunched and legs moving in unison. Campus is quiet, finals are over and a lot of people have already headed home for break, so they only see a few other people as they make their way back to Cameron’s dorm. 

It would have been smarter to go back to Divya’s place, but Cam’s is closer, and that’s all that really matters in the moment. 

Divya pulls Cam hard against the door as soon as it closes behind them, both of them open mouthed panting as Divya pins Cameron’s wrists against the door and takes what he wants, Cam trying to follow him to chase a kiss when Divya pulls away. 

“Fuck me,” he says. Almost elegant in its simplicity, Cam’s pupils blown huge as he wrenches one of his wrists free and starts shoving Divya backwards towards his room. 

They haven’t done this yet, and it hasn’t felt lacking any of the times they’ve hooked up, the two of them are creative enough with hands and mouths alone, but god suddenly it’s all Divya wants, all Divya can think about. 

Cam is careful undressing him, maybe because Divya bitched and moaned about how expensive his tux was in the first place, but it’s not a courtesy that Divya extends, ripping too hard on Cameron’s dress shirt and hearing a button go bouncing somewhere in the recesses of his room. 

Good. He can always afford another one, Divya thinks, their hands criss-crossed over each other as he undoes Cameron’s pants and Cam undoes his. 

The franticness eases a little once they’re undressed, the practical reality of sex giving them an outline. They’ve both done this, just, not together, and Cameron is methodical and calm, almost meditative as he stretches Divya open, and for a minute Divya can convince himself this isn’t different from any other time he’s let someone fuck him.

But then Cam is overtop of him, and the sheets under him smell like _Cam Cam Cam_ and god fuck he’s inside him. 

Cam is inside him. 

“Just, tell me when I can move,” Cam says brokenly, eyes closed and jaw very tense and it hits Divya too hard all at once how fragile Cam is in that moment. 

“Oh god, shit,” Divya says, so full and entirely hollowed out at the same time. 

“I got you,” Cam says, eyes open again and face pressed close as Divya starts to relax, “I’ve got you, Div I’ve got you.” 

Diyva pants open mouthed against Cam’s clavicle, “Just, not yet, give me a second.” 

“Here, maybe,” Cam says, getting one of his stupid impossible huge hands under the small of Divya’s back and shifting him up a bit and— 

“Oh fuck,” Divya moans, too loud and open. 

“Yeah, that’s better, I’ve got you baby,” Cam says, and Divya would probably have a lot more to say about that if he had any words in his vocabulary left that weren’t oh god shit fuck Cam right there right there.

Fuck Cam, fuck fuck fuck, shit, right there right there. 

_Cam Cam Cam_

Divya bobs to the surface of consciousness and for a moment he’s not sure where he is. 

And then he catches sight of Cameron’s back as he bends over to put some underwear on and he is. Very aware of exactly where he is and why. 

God. 

“Hey, sorry,” Cameron says hushed. “You don’t have to get up, it’s only 5:15.” 

“Mmmm,” Divya says. He’s not surprised that Cam is still keeping to his regular schedule, but it’s not exactly flattering either. Especially when Divya’s going to need literal recovery time on this one. Though Cam was so fucking methodical that he’s not particularily sore. 

“I’ve got uh, like oatmeal and some other breakfast stuff if you wanna eat something,” Cam says, pulling on a pair of shorts and a long sleeve compression shirt. “Just help yourself.” 

“Sure, okay,” Divya says, rubbing his eyes. 

“Um, okay then,” Cameron says, holding a sweater in one hand. “Maybe we can get dinner later?” 

“Probably not,” Divya says, “I’m flying out tonight remember?” 

“Shit, yeah,” Cam says. “Well. Um. Okay, if I don’t see you before you go, have a good break.” 

Divya’s about to say ‘sure’ or ‘you too man’ when Cameron leans over and kisses him, so swift that Divya’s only just clued in that it’s happening before Cam pulls away, grabbing the empty bottle of gatorade he chugged last night after they finished from his desk. 

Divya stares at the closed door for far too long after Cameron has closed it before closing his eyes and attempting to go back to sleep. 

For about ten minutes he can hear Tyler and Cam talking in the living room, and he must drift off because the sound of the front door opening and closing jolts him awake again. It occurs to him, that he should probably leave now while they’re both gone so he doesn’t have to make an awkward escape later while Cameron tries to pretend nothing happen and Tyler makes dumb innuendos. 

He waits another five minutes or so before starting to gather up his stuff. It’s peak morning-after to wear a rumpled tuxedo home at six in the morning, but it can’t really be helped. Divya drapes his coat over his arm and shoves his tie into a pocket, so at least he won’t look like a groom who’s run away from his own wedding. 

He’s trying to remember if he brought anything else back from the party last night and simultaneously fantasizing about the hot shower he’s going to take when he gets home, so he doesn’t notice Tyler until far, far too late. 

They stare at each other for a moment before Tyler breaks into a huge grin, abandoning his bowl of oatmeal and practically jumping to his feet. “Wow, oh holy fuck where’s my camera.” 

“Why are you here?” Divya whines, because this is not fair. 

“We’re not joined at the hip,” Tyler says, “God, I _knew_ something was up this morning. I mean obviously I knew shit was going down when you left the party early, but Cam was all cagey this morning and I was like, weird mood for a dude who just boned, but now all is clear.” 

“Okay, cool, I’m going to leave now,” Divya says. 

“Yeah I should head out in a second too,” Tyler says shovelling the last of his oatmeal into his mouth. “Congrats on the sex.” 

“Next time I sleep over I’m going to smother you in your sleep,” Divya says pulling the door open. 

“Wow, it must have been good if you’re planning a repeat viewing so soon.” 

Divya flips Tyler off, but he has to admit. He kind of has a point. 

Despite Cameron’s many, many, reiterations that they needed to make sure they met up with Zuckerberg before break, saying it a hundred times doesn’t make it actually happen.

“Look,” Cam had said post-coitally, because once you start mixing business with pleasure it’s hard to stop, “End of semesters are a busy time for anyone. If he’s still dicking us around after break we can start looking for someone new.” 

Which is why Divya is now back at home in New York, website entirely unprogressed. 

He spends time with his parents, does some odd jobs around the house, hangs out with his little cousins who suddenly have become moody pre-teens, and watches a lot of reruns. 

He’s having a fine enough break, but his parents working long days and a lack of city friends he’d really kept up with means that he’s going a little stir crazy when Cameron calls him about potentially coming into the city for a day or two. 

“Dude, please,” Divya says, cradling the phone with his ear and shoulder as he balances a plate of various leftovers down the basement stairs, “I’m going stir crazy here. I spent an hour yesterday listening to my cousins debate who the hottest Backstreet Boy was, and I feel like I’m starting to have an opinion.” 

“It wouldn’t be for very long,” Cameron says apologetically, and Divya can picture his face perfectly in his mind's eye, that polished remorseful, but not too vulnerable, look, “Dad has a meeting in the morning and then he wanted to do lunch, but I’m sure he’d love if you could join. You know he thinks you’re great.” 

“He’s a man of great taste.” 

“See, this is why he likes you, because you say shi-stuff like that.” 

Divya’s pretty sure the real reason that Mr. Winklevoss likes him so much is because he spent literal years busting his ass to make it happen. Every thoughtful comment, every carefully constructed outfit, every handwritten thank you card leading up to a situation where he gets invitations to lunch at the Waldorf-Astoria and not side-eye and assumptions. 

“I need to get a bracelet for my cousin, so let’s meet at 11 am at Tiffany’s, alright?” Cam says. 

God, Divya must really be going stir crazy if he’s willingly agreeing to go to Fifth Avenue the week before Christmas, to goddamn Tiffany & Co like a _tourist_. “Sure, alright, see you then.” 

“I’ll look forward to it,” Cam says and hangs up. 

It is, predictably, a total zoo, but Divya manages to elbow his way inside and find Cameron without losing any limbs to Midwestern moms, so he’s counting that as a win. Sometimes having a friend who quite literally sticks out above the crowd works to your advantage. 

Divya wanders while Cameron looks at bracelets, not considering himself to be much of an expert in that area. He wonders if the staff are trained to spot money on sight, because while several sales associates jump to help Cameron, Divya’s been entirely left to his own devices as he looks at watches that he could never own. Or, at least that he would never spend that much money on because holy shit. 

“Divya?” Someone says behind him, someone very definitely not Cameron and he turns to find himself face to face with Camille. Her hair is entirely different and she’s wearing a tailored skirt with a fussy blouse and she looks like, well an adult, but that’s definitely his high school girlfriend standing right there. 

“Oh my god, hi?” She says, already reaching out to hug him. “It’s been a million years.” 

“Same, wow, hi. You look great,” Divya says. “How’s uh, NYU right?” 

“I transferred actually, yeah I’m at Columbia now,” Camille says, voice lilting smugness. 

“That’s great, congrats, I know that was your first choice.” 

“Well, we can’t all get into Harvard but not our safety school,” Camille says. 

“Ouch, how long have you been holding onto that one?” Divya says, putting a hand over his heart in the kind of melodramatic move he can’t help but associate with Tyler. 

Camille gives a little half-hearted shrug and heads behind a counter. “So I won’t get written up for chatting, if there’s anything you want to see out of the case?” 

“Hmmm,” Divya says, looking down into the watch display. “I don’t want to waste your time, but I do like that one.” He points at one of the watches in the case, something simple and classic. It's admittedly not that different from his current watch, black leather band, round face, but he knows what he likes. 

“I already know you’re not buying anything,” Camille says as she pulls it out for him, “Don’t look offended, it’s part of our training to, you know, be able to tell who’s just looking, who’s going to buy something less expensive, who needs a lot of attention before they’ll make a big purchase.” 

Divya runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth as he adjusts the watch onto his wrist, “Alright, what do your retail super senses tell you about me?” 

“Oh, you got dragged here by your girlfriend. Obviously. Not interested at all, but browsing while you wait,” Camille says, and then continues before Divya can even begin to (sort of?) correct her. “See now _that’s_ someone who is here to spend money, and specifically who needs us to tell them what to buy.” 

She angles her head and Divya wishes he was more surprised to see her alluding to Cameron, who is now walking towards them. 

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting, I was stuck between two so I just got both and a receipt,” Cameron says.

Camille looks half surprised and half smug as Divya gives up the game. “Cameron, this is my friend Camille, from high school. Camille this is— ” 

“Cameron Winklevoss, hello,” Cam says, reaching out to shake her hand. 

“Let me guess, you two go to Harvard together,” Camille says. 

“Guilty,” Cameron says, and he’s smiling but it doesn’t go all the way to his eyes. 

“Divya clearly you like to have a Cam-something in your life.” 

“Hmm,” Divya says noncommittally. 

“I didn’t realize you were browsing,” Cameron says to Divya, gesturing at the watch. 

“More like daydreaming,” Divya says. 

“Let me see,” Cam says, and Divya turns his wrist obligingly. 

“Divya, you should get it, didn’t you say your old watch never really ran right after the last time you got the battery changed?” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just dip into my Tiffany watch fund,” Divya says. 

“I didn’t realize you had the same watch,” Camille says, picking up Divya’s discarded regular watch from the counter. “Oh Div, I remember when you got this. Your sixteenth birthday right? I remember you agonized over it for like a week before you picked this one.” 

“I forgot about that,” Divya says, but it all comes rushing back. He’d gotten it into his head that having a nice watch was the ultimate grown-up status symbol, saving up for months and months and pooling birthday money to splash out on a watch that cost a small fraction of the one on his wrist right now.

“I’ll get it for you,” Cam says, snapping Divya out of his nostalgic reprieve. 

“Very funny,” Divya says. “C’mon, I was just messing around and catching up. I don’t need a new watch.” 

“Div, I want to. It looks perfect on you and I know your old one hasn’t been running as well,” Cam says, and then, much _much_ more shocking than offering to buy Divya a three thousand dollar watch, puts his hand on the small of Divya’s back. “It can be a gift.” 

“I don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

“I never said a Christmas gift. It can just be a gift. There doesn’t have to be an occasion.” 

Camille’s eyes are darting back and forth between them, and Cameron says, “Look, you make commission on your sales right?” 

“I do, yes.” 

“See, you get a gift, Camille gets a bonus, everyone wins.” 

Divya doesn’t see a way out of this that doesn’t involve him having to make a literal scene in front of his ex-girlfriend, so he just shrugs. “Okay, if you want to waste your money, I won’t stop you.” 

Cam’s hand is still on his back when he hands his credit card over to Camille and she all but winks at Divya as she turns to run the transaction. 

God he really, really, hopes she just thinks Cameron is his boyfriend and not that he’s gotten himself into some sort of weird financial-sexual arrangement. 

Or, well, obviously he hopes that she just thinks they’re two friends, one of whom has _way_ too much disposable income, but that ship got a cannon hole blown in the side of it the minute Cameron put his hand on Divya’s back. 

He’s still reeling from that more than the watch as they make their way out of the store and into the mad rush that is Fifth Avenue the week before Christmas. 

“You’re insane, you know that?” Divya says over the oppressive crush of voices once they’re outside. 

“I’ve been told as much,” Cam says, and Divya’s torn between wanting to tell him to go fuck himself and begging him to skip lunch with Mr. Winklevoss so Cam can fuck him instead. 

They don’t skip lunch. 

Which means Cameron gets to make an incredibly smug face over his glass of ice water when Mr. Winklevoss compliments Divya on his watch. 

“Thank you sir,” Divya says. “It’s new.” 

“So, tell me what you’ve been up to this semester. I’ve heard from Cameron that your internet venture hasn’t been as smooth sailing as you’d have hoped.” 

“No sir,” Divya says. “But we’re optimistic about getting the site up and running by spring.” 

“Fantastic,” Mr. Winklevoss says. “Absolutely fantastic.” 

Divya’s never been able to tell if his good footing with Tyler and Cameron’s dad is because of, or in spite of, their first meeting being the Preston Incident. 

As per Divya’s very firm rule about only going to one crew event per semester, Tyler had suggested that maybe he could come to the spring IRA Championships and finally meet their parents. Which had all gone perfectly well, especially since sitting through five hours of crew events with no one to talk to is about as fun as an unanesthetized root canal. 

Divya had been, frankly, crushing it conversationally with the pre-approved topics he’d run by Cameron and Tyler beforehand, and they were just waiting for Cameron and Tyler at the end of the event to go for a (very expensive) celebratory dinner. 

And then Preston had walked up and introduced himself to Cameron’s parents. 

Which. On paper wasn’t that big of a deal, he hadn’t said anything incriminating, and no one had said anything to Cameron about it at dinner. 

Divya honestly thought it was a non-issue until after dinner when Mr. Winklevoss pulled him aside and asked him if Preston was Cameron’s boyfriend. Only he didn’t say boyfriend, he said ‘gentleman friend,’ which was somehow way worse. Divya had said diplomatically, “I don’t think so sir, but Cameron would know better than I would.” 

Divya had pieced together afterward, more from Tyler than from Cameron (who was pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing), that Cam was a lot more pissed that Divya was put in that position than he was about Preston talking to his parents. 

“Don’t tell him I told you this,” Tyler had said, months later, “But him and Preston didn’t break up because of dad, they broke up because of you.” 

Divya had been, well, frankly, kind of glad at the time. Preston was nice enough but the four of them had never really managed to hang out together, and even before the Incident, Divya could tell Cam was getting bored of him. If anything, it had only sped up the inevitable. 

Not that this has anything to do with Divya having lunch with Cameron’s dad now, the three of them making pleasant conversation over glasses of dry Riesling that Mr. Winklevoss ordered for the table. Still, he can’t stop thinking about it, his new watch heavier on his wrist than he’s used to, and he feels an almost overwhelming sense of relief when Mr. Winklevoss shakes Divya’s hand over the table and apologizes for needing to run to his next meeting. 

“Cam, put it on the Amex,” Mr. Winklevoss says, and then he’s gone, leaving Cameron

and Divya alone in a far too nice restaurant, like little kids playing tea party. 

“So,” Divya says. “Uh, did you. I don’t know. Did you want to do something?” 

He’s not even really talking about sex, toying with the idea of taking Cameron to his house, a narrow four-story townhouse entirely unlike the sprawling Conneticuit mansion that the twins had grown up in, but Cam shuffles awkwardly. 

“I probably shouldn’t. Dad wants to drive home after his meeting,” Cameron says. 

“Oh, alright,” Divya says, the urge to add something petty rising in the back of his throat like bile, but he swallows it firmly. He watches Cameron sign the check and Divya has the insane compulsive urge to rip his watch off and throw it on the table. 

_Divya_

_Hope you’re having a good break. Parents are driving me absolutely crazy but what else is new. Mom insisted on going into the city so we could go to Macy’s and practically get trampled. Also my older sister just got engaged so now it’s the endless “KC when are you going to settle down” and wedding drama parade. How is Harvard so much less stressful than this?_

_Tell me what you’re up to, I could use the distraction._

_Xo_

_KC_

_KC,_

_Wait, where do you live that you’re coming into the city, I didn’t realize you were close by Maybe we can meet up?_

_Best,_

_Divya_

Being able to hang out with KC over break is exactly the reprieve he needs to stop running over his day with Cameron and micro-analyzing every moment. It was weird, he can just leave it at that, he doesn’t need to spend hours trying to break down Cam’s exact motivations for buying him an obscenely expensive gift and then forcefully turning down Divya’s goodbye hug with a handshake instead. 

He takes off the watch when he gets home from Midtown and doesn’t put it back on for three days. 

So KC wanting to come see him is like a cloudburst during a drought and he practically jumps to his feet to wave her over when she walks into the Japanese restaurant they’d agreed to meet up in. 

“Hi, hi,” She says, graciously accepting his hug. “God, I am so happy to see someone I’m not related to I could cry.” 

She pulls off her coat and throws it over the unoccupied chair beside her. “How’s everything, spare no mundane detail.” 

“Well, I can now tell apart the different Backstreet Boys,” Divya says, turning his menu over. “So that’s a life skill you can’t learn at Harvard.” 

“Divya,” KC says, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this with complete sincerity. Tell. Me. Everything.” 

They don’t really plan to go back to his place, but it’s close and his parents aren’t home and KC brushes around his room looking at all his dumb childhood things. Posters for movies he hasn’t seen in years, high school awards framed like great works of art and a clutter of trophies on his bookshelf. 

They’re just talking, they haven’t even kissed yet as she explores his room with the gentle curiosity of a house cat. And then suddenly she turns to him, lip caught between her teeth and it’s happening. 

He has to check the expiration date on some condoms he bought in high school, which is sort of mortifying, but KC just laughs and says, “Safety first” and kisses him again. 

He makes her a snack after because it seems like the nice thing to do, and she fusses with her hair in the hallway mirror while he bangs around the kitchen. “What do you think? Up or down?” She calls to him, and Divya looks up from the makeshift charcuterie board he’s trying to throw together. 

“Uhhh, up I think,” Divya says. 

“Good call,” KC asks, unwinding a hair tie from her wrist. Divya watches the back of her neck as she pulls her hair up and they make eye contact in the mirror. 

KC leaves before his mom gets home from her on-call shift, which is a small mercy because he remembers what she was like when he and Camille had first started dating. Like her solution to teen sex was to just bombard her with questions from the moment she stepped in the house. 

Still, he’s promised KC that he’ll make the trek into New Jersey for her family’s New Year’s Eve party, so he might just be postponing the inevitable. 

Divya has been listening to KC’s cousin explaining her dental school practicum for about forty-five minutes when KC finally comes to rescue him. He knows it’s been forty-five minutes too because he wore his stupid new watch to this party and it definitely does not run slow like his old one. It better not run slow for that price tag. 

“Hi, sorry, I need to steal Divya,” KC says, appearing at his side and pulling him off before her cousin can get going again. “I am so sorry, my mom just cornered me to talk about possible wedding colour schemes. Like, I don’t know mom, it’s not my wedding, why do I have to have an opinion!” 

“It’s alright,” Divya says. “I would love another drink though.” 

“Of course,” She kisses him on the cheek and vanishes with his glass. 

“Here, why don’t we go for a walk,” KC says when she comes back with his glass. 

“A walk?” 

“Just in the backyard,” she says, “it’s so warm in here.” 

“Alright,” Divya agrees, and she takes his hand and leads him out a sliding glass door and into her backyard. It feels crazy to him that someone who lives this close to the city can have a backyard, but he figures that’s why people move to New Jersey, for things like space and privacy and backyards. 

“I’m really glad you came,” KC says. “I know my family can be a lot.” 

“I like them,” Divya says. Like him, both of her parents are doctors, though only one of the medical variety, and her younger brother is about the same age as Divya’s cousins. There’s a familiarity to it that he can grasp onto, even if he can only handle hearing about dental school for so long. 

“That’s good,” KC wraps an arm around his back. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she says again. Neither of them are really wearing shoes they can tromp around the yard in, so they stay huddled together on the patio, KC stealing sips from his glass, and making a face because she doesn’t like whiskey. 

“How do you drink that stuff?” She takes another sip. “God, no.” 

“The twins drink it,” Divya says with a shrug. “I’ve had to wean them onto beer.”

KC laughs, “They really are— ” she stops herself, “They seem like very interesting

people.” 

“There’s a definite learning curve,” Divya says, and then feels strangely guilty for talking

about them. Even if he knows Cameron and Tyler have never exactly shied away from the notoriety that being buff, stupidly tall, identical twins gives you. 

“So,” he says, changing the subject before Cam and Tyler come back up. “Have you made any New Year’s resolutions?” 

“I have,” KC says, very determinedly. “Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” 

“Oh?” 

“Being home, it’s really made me. Reconsider some of my priorities I guess? You know like, Gemma is getting married now and I’m coming up on graduation and feeling more of this, well, desire to really only invest my time and energy into the things that are going to get me where I want to be in ten years, fifteen years.” 

Divya nods. “That’s a great resolution.”

“I’m glad you think so because, on that note,” KC exhales hard through her nose, “I’ve had a lot of fun with you recently, and I was happy for this just to be casual. But I think I’m reaching a point where I’d rather just be friends if you’re not looking to date someone.” 

Oh. Divya feels a bit stupid for not pinpointing that that was where this was going. “Oh. Alright.” 

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” KC says, “I know I kind of sprung it on you and I know. I know you were seeing someone else and that’s not. It wasn’t a problem or anything. But I’d just like to be more clear going forward what I’m looking for.” 

Divya shakes his head. “No, that’s good. Cards on the table.” 

KC’s eyes are big and brown and there’s this freckle above her lip that Divya couldn’t stop looking at when they hooked up in his childhood bedroom and he doesn’t love her. 

But he thinks that he could. He really does.

“Let’s do it,” Divya says, and when he kisses her it feels like a standing ovation.

**January 2004**

Divya has not had a girlfriend since high school and it’s a bit of an unpleasant realization that not only is he out of practice, having a college girlfriend is an entirely different experience. 

With Camille he was guaranteed to see her at least twice a day because they had classes together, not to mention lunch and passing period. But now Divya has to actually make plans with his girlfriend or he just doesn’t see her at all. 

Which is shockingly easy to do with a full course load, Porcellian commitments, Entrepreneurs Society, wanting to hang out with his friends who have the most insane schedule in the world, and Zuckerberg still giving them the runaround. 

At this point they’re not even trying to get in touch with him to code the site as much as they’re just trying to dump him from the project. 

Which Cameron, always the gentleman, insists they can’t do over email.

“God, AEPi boys are the _worst_ ,” Mirriam had complained when Divya had asked her if she knew Mark Zuckerberg in a last-ditch effort to try and get in touch with him since her ex-boyfriend was in AEPi. “They all have super creepy yellow fever, but god forbid the nice Jewish girls they’re ignoring want to date an Asian guy, noooo, then we’re ‘letting down the tribe.’ Like, fuck off.” 

Needless to say, it hadn’t helped with the Zuckerberg situation. 

Anyway, the point is that between his busy schedule and KC’s busy schedule, finding the time for “dates” is less often romantic candlelit dinners, and more often helping her do laundry in the creepy basement laundry room at her apartment. 

Not that Divya is complaining, it’s nice, sitting together while he sends emails on his Blackberry and she does a crossword from one of those books you can buy at a newstand, her feet pressed against his thigh from where she’s squeezed herself into the chair in a seemingly impossible position. 

“Okay, one, two, three, five letters, starts with an M, clue is ‘half a semibreve.’” 

Divya looks over at her puzzle. She does them in pen, which he finds weirdly endearing for something so arguably stupid, “Minim, I think.” 

“You think? Where’s the assurance in that?”

“My high school girlfriend was in band, that’s about as much as I can give you.” 

“What instrument?” KC asks, and Divya wonders if this is some kind of test. 

“Clarinet.” 

“Hmm,” KC says. “Alan has this theory that flute players make the best lovers because they have the breath control _and_ the finger dexterity.” 

“Interesting,” Divya says, watching his tone. To his surprise he’s been more of a success with KC’s friends than he’d ever expected to be with a group of arts and humanities majors, but it’s a feeling that’s not always mutual. They keep inviting him to stuff, which, like, it’s great, it’s fine, it’s nice to be included, but. 

He prefers this, just the two of them together. There’s a lot he can absorb by hanging out with her friends, but it’s also kind of exhausting trying to keep on top of who has beef with who and what inside jokes are about what. People can talk shit all they want about Divya ‘only having two friends,’ or whatever, at least he can actually keep track of them. 

He helps KC fold her laundry, and she kisses him after each fold when he helps her with her sheets like they’re in an old movie musical. 

“Did you want me to make you dinner?” KC asks, folding her thongs very methodically. 

“Oh, I’m getting dinner with the twins,” Divya says, checking his watch. “I should actually head out pretty soon.” 

KC looks up at him for a long moment, mouth twisting like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, just clicks her tongue and goes back to folding. 

“I can help you carry everything up,” Divya says, “I’m not going to abandon you.” 

“Okay, sure,” KC says, and she doesn’t sound mad, but Divya can’t shake the feeling that he did the wrong thing up until the moment he kisses her goodbye. 

He power walks to the restaurant but he’s still late, a plate of fries already in the middle of the table while everyone looks over menus.

“Tsk tsk,” Tyler says, when Divya slides into the booth beside Cameron, not even bothering to take his coat off. 

“Fuck off. And before you ask, KC is fine and I’m late because we were doing laundry, and no that is not ‘what the kids are calling it these days,’ get a new bit.” 

“Can you believe this,” Tyler says, turning exasperatedly to Brent who is folding a straw wrapper into a very small square. “I hooked this boy up and he has the nerve, nay, the audacity to— ” 

“Ty, drop it,” Cameron says, not looking up from where he’s studying the menu intently. 

“What the fuck is this, Be A Dick To Tyler Day?” Tyler says, but doesn’t push it any further beyond turning the plate of fries around so the sweet potato fries are closer to him. “I was just going to ask if KC was going to be joining us, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Divya says, “No, I mean. It was just an us thing I didn’t wanna— plus, you know,” he angles his head towards Brent, who looks up sheepishly. 

“Wait, what did I do?” 

“Nothing,” Tyler says. “We’re just, remember, I told you Div’s girlfriend is friends with Ella.” 

Brent nods. “Ooohhh yeah dude that might be mega awkward.” 

For some reason Divya can’t quite explain, he really expects Cameron to chime in about this, to agree that it would have been weird for Divya to have brought KC to what was pretty ostensibly a boys’ night hangout, but Cam doesn’t add anything. Still looking over the menu like he’s going to change up his standard order for the first time in four years. 

That’s the other thing high school never prepared him for. How to let down your best friend with benefits when you get a girlfriend. 

Divya thinks, all things considered, that he did a pretty good job. He told Cameron right away, he reassured him that he still cared deeply about their friendship, and he’d respected Cameron’s wishes that Divya not tell KC that they’d been hooking up (at least not right away).

And it’s not like this is even the first time they’d done that, hooked up and then moved forward with just being friends, that had been the status quo for literally years. 

So Divya’s not sure why it feels so different now, but he kind of hates it. 

The conversation moves on though, they complain about Ethan flaking on them to hang out with Kitsey, Cameron orders the same mushroom and swiss burger he always does and Divya gets a club, Tyler orders chocolate milk and refuses to be embarrassed about it even when Divya hassles him about it. Zuckerberg emails him with another bullshit excuse. It’s exceedingly normal. 

“I do not get what his deal is,” Tyler says as they’re leaving. “Like, we’re not trying to get a second date after a one night stand, we just want to fire you.” 

“Maybe he’s going through something,” Cameron says, and Divya is painfully aware of how tightly pressed together they are in the narrow booth. Cam’s right side to his left. “Okay, yes, _probably_ not,” Cameron concedes to Tyler making a face. “But he deserves to have us tell him this to his face.” 

Divya bites back a comment about how Cameron has a habit of telling Tyler things with his back literally turned to him, but it’s too petty even for him, and he just shrugs and picks at his food. 

“Want some company?” Cameron asks when they push out of the restaurant, his coat collar turned up on one side and not the other. Divya shrugs and pushes down the urge to fix it. He looks like a dog who’s gotten one of his ears turned inside out, and Divya refuses to be endeared by it. 

“I think I’m good. I could use the time to think,” Divya says. 

“Sure. Alright,” Cam agrees easily. 

Divya knows it’s illogical, and he knows it’s not fair, but he wishes that Cameron had pushed back even a little. All his competitive spirit pushed out of him for daily acquiescence. Sometimes Divya feels like if they’d just fought about it — though to be fair he’s not entirely sure what ‘it’ is — that everything would be better.

But then again, maybe not. Divya has tasted the words he’s wanted to say again and again since he got off the phone with Cameron after New Years. But he’s held them back over and over because he genuinely doesn’t know if three years of friendship and something-else-ship can withstand a blow this fatal. 

_It’s not my fault you lost._

“I’ll see you later then,” Cameron says. 

Divya nods. “Yeah, see you.” 

If you had asked Divya to describe his ideal Valentine’s date, it would not involve any of the following things; KC’s friends, Acapella, or Mark Zuckerberg. 

Someone out there must really hate him. 

It hadn’t seemed like an entirely terrible idea at the time, they were both going to be super busy the actual week of Valentines day, they’ve only been dating about six weeks so something lowkey was less intimidating, and KC already had plans to go to the Acapella concert. Perfect solution. 

Only now he’s listening to an acapella cover of a song he’s ninety-eight percent sure Camille had on one of their sex mixtapes, and KC’s friends are arguing about love songs, and KC has been on her laptop this entire time. 

“Honey, you should put the laptop away,” he says, gently, because he’s not trying to be a dick, he just wants to rescue any hope of this night feeling vaguely romantic 

“Seven different people spammed me the same link.”

“KC…” He says, and he’s not trying to but he can hear the Cameron Winklevoss influence coming through his voice.

“What is it?” Ella asks, now looking at her laptop too.

“I don’t know, but I’m really hoping it’s cats that look like Hitler ‘cause I can never get enough of that,” KC says. Ella giggles and Divya’s turned his attention back to the concert that he didn’t even want to come to, but he’s not going to be rude about it. 

“No, it’s not,” KC says.

Divya turns to look, and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting really. There’s always some dumb spam chain email bouncing around Harvard, but that is not this. 

This, is the end of the fucking world. 

“Div!” KC says, but it’s far far away, “What?” 

He grabs her laptop without thinking, “Okay, what is wrong?” KC says, frantic. 

But Divya’s not functioning on words anymore, couldn’t even tell her if he wanted to. He _can’t_ think his mind is swimming in adrenaline. He’s only run and fall and fuck and it’s fine it’s fine its fine, get up, keep running. 

Tyler&Cam. And Cam. Cam. Cam. 

Divya crosses the bridge. 

“This is a good guy?” 

“We don’t know that he’s not a good guy.”

“We know that he stole our idea. We know he lied to our faces for a month and a half.”

“No, he never lied to our faces. “

“Okay, he never saw our faces, fine, lied to our email accounts and he gave himself a 42-day head start because he knows what apparently you don’t; which is that getting there first is _everything_.” 

“I’m a competitive racer, _Div_ , I don’t think you need to school me on the importance of getting there first, thank you.” 

Divya’s not sure if they’re still talking about Mark Zuckerberg anymore. 

The conversation moves on, plans are made, not the plans Divya wants to make, but it’s a plan at least. Even if he thinks Cameron’s blinded by his own notions of honour, rules to a game that only people with the right kind of money and connections play, he trusts him enough to be the level-headed one in this moment. 

“Look, there’s no harm in trying,” Cameron says, still in his bathrobe while Tyler stalks around the dorm. “If it doesn’t work we can resort to something stronger, but let’s not needlessly escalate this before we need to.” 

Tyler rolls his eyes at Divya but he doesn’t challenge his brother. 

Divya shifts back in his chair and winces. “Ow, fuck.” 

Cam looks up from where he’s reading over the Crimson article again. “What?” 

Divya rubs his hip. “It’s fine, I fell earlier. It’s just sore.” 

“Ice?” 

“No, I uh, I fell at the— ” Oh fuck shit. 

“Sorry, sorry, hold on,” Divya says, jumping to his feet. “Crap.” 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Cameron says, standing up from the couch. 

“Uhhh, I need to call KC,” Divya says, brain rebooting after the hecticness of the last few hours. “Shit.” 

He steps into the hall, hands clenching and unclenching as he braces himself for this conversation.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” KC says when he picks up. “Are you _insane?_ ” 

“KC, honey, look, I’m so sorry. I can explain all of this.” 

“Where the fuck are you?” 

“I’m at the twin’s dorm— ” KC scoffs. “Do you want me to come— I can come to your apartment?”

“I don’t really want to see you right now,” KC says. 

“Okay, okay,” Divya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I fucked up.” 

“Do you know how _scary_ that was for me? It was like you were possessed.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

“I texted you like twelve times, I had to text Tyler to make sure you weren’t— I don’t even know what I thought you were, Divya. Don’t do that to me.” 

“I know, I know. KC, I’m so sorry. Can I please explain to you what happened?” 

She huffs an unimpressed laugh. “Do you think it will make up for you embarrassing me in front of our friends, an entire room full of people, and walking out on our Valentine’s Day date?” 

And look. Divya knows he’s not in the right in this situation. He fucked up, and he can own that. But he doesn’t need to lie down and take unfairness either. 

“I am happy to take accountability for the first two, I really am,” Divya says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “But come on, let’s not pretend this is like I ran out of some sort of candlelit dinner for two.” 

“Are you seriously pushing this?” KC says. 

“You were on your laptop the entire time I was there,” Divya says. “I’m not saying that means it was okay, but— ” 

“Okay great, just say it doesn’t make it okay.” 

“It was a group date and you were on your laptop the whole time, that’s all I’m saying.” 

“Newsflash, Divya,” KC says, “I already had those plans with my friends and I invited you along because I thought it was the nice thing to do. As your girlfriend. I know the concept of integrating the person you’re dating into your friend group is a foreign concept to you, but it matters to me.” 

Divya is so thrown off he needs to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment, because, wow. What the fuck. “Alright, okay, clearly you’re wanting to get something out. Please continue.” 

“I am not the bad guy here,” KC says. 

“I never said you were— ” 

“I invite you to so many things with my friends and it’s like you don’t even want your friends to meet me.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Okay, okay, so like the other week when you didn’t invite me to go get dinner with you. Like, hi, maybe I would like to come with you.” 

Divya pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t invite you to that because Brent was going to be there and I didn’t want to make things awkward for you.”

“That was just one example, Div, you’re missing the point.” 

“No I’m not, I don’t invite you to things where I think you’re going to be bored or feel left out.” 

“I’m not a kid, those are decisions I should get to make,” KC shoots back. 

“Alright, so I should just let you be miserable so you can feel like you’re fitting in with my friends? That’s what you want me to do?” 

“You’re being such an asshole right now, you’re being such a dick,” KC says. 

Divya knows he’s being too loud in the hall of a dorm he does not live in. “Can we just focus on tonight please. Can I just apologize for the thing I actually called you to apologize for.” 

“It’s not a tickbox checklist Divya,” KC says. 

“I know, I know. I’m just— he stole our website. We’ve been working on this for two _years_ and Mark Zuckerberg stole our website.” 

“What?” 

“That link you got, The Facebook? That was our idea, that was Harvard Connection.” 

“Oh sweetie,” KC says, voice softening. “Honey, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry I bailed. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you and I should have called you earlier. I fucked up. I am truly, truly sorry, this wasn’t— this wasn’t an ordinary incident. This was two years of work burned to the ground. I’m sure you can understand the gravity of that. This is not me on a normal day.”

KC heaves a sigh over the line. “Yeah, okay. It’s okay, Div. I understand.” 

“Can we talk more about this face to face?” Divya asks. “Maybe tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, okay,” she sounds so tired. “I’ll uh, let me check my schedule and I can text you.” 

“Okay honey,” Divya says. “I’ll check for your message.”

“Sure,” KC says, “I’m going to turn in, alright?” 

“Of course, sleep well,” Divya says. He stares down at his phone for a minute, he knows he’s put out the flames at least, but he’s worried about what’s going to be left to save. 

KC breaks up with him a week after that. 

It’s both because of Valentine's day and nothing to do with it. 

“I just feel like you’re not making the kind of space for me in your life that I’m looking for,” she says, the two of them walking shoulder to shoulder with takeout coffees so they don’t have to look at each other. “I spent more time with Tyler before we were dating then I have since we started. Don’t you think that’s weird?” 

“I see your point,” Divya concedes. 

“I don’t think we have to want the same things all the time but I just— I feel like we like being together individually but that your life and my life are inherently at odds with each other. I don’t want you to think that hanging with my friends is something you have to suffer through to make me happy, I want you to get something out of that.”

If Divya thought this was fixable he’d probably argue back that he’s made a lot of room for her in his life, he’s already been giving things up for her, already introduced her to Takumi and Mirriam and some of his Porc friends and even Cameron despite the super weird circumstances. But he can read the writing on the wall, and it feels exhausting to even consider arguing back. 

“I just think I pushed too much too soon,” KC says. “But also. I just keep thinking like. If this was meant to work out, wouldn’t we be more on the same page? Like it’s one thing to compromise, but— I don’t know.” 

Divya’s always hated that logic. He understands it to a degree, that you can’t compromise yourself away to nothing, but of course you have to make accommodations for other people in your life. No matter how much you might intrinsically click, there’s always things that won’t line up, edges to be smoothed down. It’s just a question of how many ways you don’t line up, how much work it would take, how badly you actually want to make it work. 

God, he sounds like Cameron. 

He doesn’t say any of this to KC, just squeezes her hand and says, “Alright, what do you want to do then?” 

It feels like the (polite, honourable, gentlemanly) thing to let her break up with him, and he feels weirdly at peace with it until she’s walking away, her camel coat and the dark swing of her hair. He doesn’t love her. 

But he could have. 

He’s tired of losing things he didn’t even have in the first place.

Ethan McNamara doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s why he’s such good friends with Tyler, and it’s why Divya is currently lying curled into the fetal position on his own bathroom floor. 

“Do you think you’re gonna puke again?” Ethan’s girlfriend Kitsey asks from where she’s perched across the room on the ledge of Divya’s bath tub. 

Divya groans something he hopes sounds decently like a no, and she collects his discarded sweater off the floor. “I’ll put some water in your room, okay?” 

“Thank you,” Divya says, mostly into his bath mat, and Kitsey pats him on the shoulder with what Divya is like, ninety percent sure is her foot before leaving the bathroom. 

The thought of sending KC a petty text crosses his mind for a half second, ‘bet you’re bummed I never dragged you to a get together where Easy Mac got me stupid drunk and we all complained about our exes,’ but even the thought of standing up makes Divya’s stomach turn over. Plus, it’s a dick move to add twenty cents to her phone bill for something that below the belt. 

He’s not entirely sure how long he lies there, he knows Takumi comes in at one point, and then eventually Tyler comes banging in, too big and too loud.

“Fuck off,” Divya says from the floor. 

“Div, Divya, Divy, listen,” Tyler says, and oh good he’s drunk too, “I love you. I support

you in this bad bad not good time. But listen. I have to piss _so_ bad right now. You need to get up.” 

“I’m not even looking,” Divya whines, but he’s pushing himself into a sitting position. His head spins, but his stomach isn’t trying to commit mutiny anymore, so. You know, small victories. “Plus, like, nothing I haven’t seen dude.” 

“What, when did you see _my_ cock?” Tyler says, way too fucking loud. 

“Hey,” Cameron says, appearing in the doorway, and he’s not nearly as far gone as Tyler but his eyes are all sorts of unfocused. “You need a hand?” 

Tyler snorts and then that turns into a retch and for a terrifying second Divya has to make peace with the idea of his best friend vomiting on him. But then it’s fine and Divya scrambles to his feet, Cam reaching out for him, even though he’s _fine_ and his bed is only like ten feet away from the bathroom anyways. 

“Oof!” Divya says, entirely unintentionally as he flops into bed. 

Cam is shuffling around his room, and it takes Divya a second to realize he’s looking for his trash can. 

Always the gentleman. 

“Man, sit down, you’re too,” Divya flops a useless hand, “ _Busy_.” 

Cameron sits down on the end of Divya’s bed, far away, but close enough that Divya can poke him with his foot. 

“You should be more drunk. This isn’t fair, you have the tolerance of a todd— of a _baby_.” 

“Yeah, but I’m big,” Cameron says seriously. 

“Yeah you are,” Divya says rocking his hips jokingly and poking at Cam with his foot until he shoves him away. 

“You’re mean.” 

“Yeah I am,” Divya says, rolling over onto his back. “Uh, hey, fuck Mark Zuckerberg am I right.” 

“Hmmm,” Cam says, flopping back horizontally across Divya’s bed. 

They both lie there quietly for a long moment, which means that Divya has enough time to think about it, decide it’s a bad idea, and say it anyways. He’s drunk, who gives a fuck. 

“You can say you hated KC, I’m not going to be upset.” 

“I don’t hate her,” Cameron says, very quickly. “I don’t hate anyone.” 

“Yes you do,” Divya says. 

“Well I never hated KC.” 

Divya snorts and sits up a little so he can see the mountain range of Cam’s profile as he gazes up at the ceiling. “Yes you did, you did that super formal polite thing you do when you don’t like someone and are overcompensating.” 

Cam turns his head and it’s too sharp and intense when they make eye contact, Divya immediately looks away. “I didn’t like Preston, so we can be even.” 

“It’s not a contest.” 

“You are the last goddamn person who can say that, Cameron Winklevoss.” 

“What?” 

“Everything’s a contest to you, everything’s a game. You’re not always playing by the same rules as everyone else but — you want that fucking gold ribbon like no one I’ve ever met. It’s kind of super fucking exhausting. It’s also kind of hot.” 

Divya knows he shouldn’t be saying this, knows that it’s incredibly tacky and probably unfair. 

“Blue ribbon,” Cameron says. “First place ribbons are blue, not gold.” 

“Fucker,” Divya says and kicks him again, Cameron catching his ankle. 

“Divya,” Cameron says, very seriously, sitting up, and it hits Divya just how much less drunk Cam is right now. “I didn’t hate your girlfriend.”

Divya is far too aware suddenly that his bedroom door is open, and he can hear Ethan and Kitsey and Mirriam and Takumi and Tyler having a grand old time in the living room. 

There’s never been a worse possible time than this. 

He’s never wanted Cam more. 

“Cam,” Divya says, yanking his leg experimentally to see if Cameron will let go, and he’s extremely pleased when he doesn’t. 

“I didn’t like watching someone I— I deeply care about wasting their time.” 

“Oh fuck you,” Divya says, _fuck me_ he means. 

“I’ll get you some water,” Cameron says, letting go and standing up. 

“I don’t need fucking water,” Divya hisses. “And I don’t need your fucking Ivy league Old Money Connecticut Prince Charming Chivalry bullshit.” 

Divya doesn’t know why he wants Cameron to push back so bad, to get angry, he thinks about the night everything fell to shit with KC and The Facebook and the way Cameron had snapped at him. 

_I don’t think you need to school me on the importance of getting there first._

“It’s not my fault you lost,” Divya says, “it’s not my fucking fault.” 

Divya’s seen Cameron deal with a lot of injuries, Divya’s seen him on the literal floor in pain, bandages on knuckles, blisters, ice packs. Everything. Everything. 

He’s never seen Cam look this hurt before. 

Good, he thinks. 

Only not really. Not at all. 

“I’ll get you some water,” Cameron says again, and shuts the door behind him. 

Divya rolls over, the cool face of his watch digging into his neck, but he doesn’t take it off, doesn’t move. 

“Div are you asleep?” Cameron asks when he comes back in an indeterminate amount of time later. 

Divya doesn’t say anything, and Cam doesn’t call his bluff, but he’s not totally sure he believes him either. He shuts off the light and leans in close enough to Divya that he can feel the hot rush of Cameron’s breath against the back of his neck. For a second Divya debates rolling over, wonders if this is a challenge, but before he can make up his mind, Cam is gone again. 

He left a blue gatorade on Divya’s night stand and it feels less like a comfort and more like an accusation. 

~~Cam~~

Cameron, 

I’m sorry about last night. I don’t remember all of it but I remember enough to know I was an asshole. ~~Can we talk~~ Can I get you a coffee or something? 

~~Divya~~

Div 

Divya, 

I totally understand, it was a rough night for everyone, but I appreciate your apology nonetheless. Lets meet after your Wednesday afternoon classes. The usual? 

Best,

Cameron Winklevoss

Harvard Class of 2004

Divya expects coffee to be a bit weird, and honestly it would probably be good for him in the long run to be reminded that Cameron Winklevoss is not a person of absolute grace and good nature, but has limits and is, in fact, sometimes kind of an asshole. 

Divya’s already paid before Cameron gets there, because otherwise they’re going to spend ten minutes of Cam insisting he should pay even though this is supposed to be Divya’s pity party. It’s busy inside, so Divya ends up waiting outside for Cameron, his palms warm from possibly more than the takeout cups. 

He sees Cameron before Cam sees him, and Divya enjoys that moment, Cameron’s face pinched a little in concentration before he spots Divya, shifting quickly into easy recognition. 

This is fine. Everything’s fine. 

“Herbal tea, no milk, two sugars and I got you an extra one,” Divya says, handing the cup over before digging an extra sugar packet out of his pocket. 

“I thought I was buying,” Cameron says, accepting his drink and the extra packet. 

“Nah man, asshole buys,” Divya says. 

“Well, yeah but— ” Cameron says, and Divya never gets to hear the end of that sentence because suddenly Cam is forcing his tea back into Divya’s hands and shouting, “Mark! Mark Zuckerberg!” 

Divya only catches a quick glimpse of who he’s only about eighty percent sure is actually Mark Zuckerberg before Cameron is running across the quad, practically slamming into a group of teens on a campus tour, form barely faltering as he dodges. 

Divya takes a sip from his coffee, ignoring where some of Cameron’s tea has dripped onto his glove. He’s just starting to consider what exactly the protocol for him is if Cam does actually manage to catch Zuckerberg; is he going to carry him back to Divya by the scruff of his neck like a housecat presenting its owner with a dead bird? Probably not, but Divya can enjoy the mental image. 

As it is, Cameron comes jogging back across the quad face flushed and mouth twisted unhappily. 

“No white whale, eh Ahab?” Divya says

“I know he saw me,” Cam seethes, taking his cup back. 

“There, there,” Divya says. “You’ll get him next time.” 

Cameron snorts, but he looks at least a little consoled.

“Drink your tea,” Divya says.

His hair suffered a bit in the mad dash, flopping down dejectedly over his forehead as he blows on his tea to cool it off and Divya doesn’t love him. 

Probably. 

He really fucking shouldn’t. 

They fall back into hooking up and it’s a complete anti-climax. After waiting exactly a month to the day him and KC broke up Cam texts him _Hey can I come over?_ and that’s kind of that. They go to class, they fight about what to do about The Facebook, Tyler and Cameron train, Divya applies for internships and summer jobs, they go to dinner, he and Cam fuck. It’s fine, it’s good. 

“Hey, what are you doing for break?” Cameron asks after one of the aforementioned fucks. Divya had thought he was asleep (“Sleeping after a workout stimulates muscle growth and repair”), but looks up from the email he’s drafting to his academic advisor on his phone. “Not really anything. Maybe going home? Why?” 

Cam shrugs as much as he can from where he’s wrapped himself in Divya’s comforter, “You know Tyler’s been trying to drag you to Aspen for years now, just wanted to see if you’d maybe be interested in tagging along.” 

“The fact that you won’t drink soda but you _will_ go downhill skiing is, uh, completely insane.” 

“What?” 

“I’m just saying no one ever broke their leg from drinking a coke.” 

“You never know,” Cameron says, heaving a sigh and sitting up. 

He’s in the middle of putting his clothes back on when someone knocks on Divya’s door. 

“Hey Div, we’re gonna order Thai food, you want anything?” Mirriam calls through the door. 

“Uh, yeah sure, let me just uh— one second.” 

“Does Cam want anything?” Mirriam calls. 

Cam freezes in the middle of putting his belt on, then clears his throat. “No, I’m alright thank you.” 

“Okay cool,” Mirriam says, and then her footsteps creak away on the wood floor. 

“I thought you said they weren’t— ” 

“Well, they weren’t when you got here,” Divya says, sitting up and getting his clothes from where he folded them over his desk chair. “I mean, whatever, tit for tat, quid pro quo.” 

“Sure,” Cameron says, hunched over for his sweater. 

“Is that...okay?” Divya says slowly. It’s not like Takumi and Mirriam don’t know the score, but Cameron’s shoulders are telling him a different story than his mouth and ever since the night they got drunk he’s been grappling with the terrifying realization of how much he can hurt Cam. 

Which is a fine and dandy thing to have figured out, but he doesn’t really know what to _do_ about it.

“Yeah, of course,” Cameron says, straightening up and pulling a Harvard Crew hoodie on. “I’ll get back to you about Aspen, okay?”

“Absolutely,” Divya says, and isn’t even weirded out anymore when Cameron leans down to give him a goodbye kiss. 

He can hear Cam making small talk with Takumi and Mirriam in the living room while he gets dressed, and he waits for a few minutes until he hears the front door open and then close again to go out to the living room. Takumi and Mirriam are watching some reality show, but they both look up at him expectantly when he walks out. 

“Hey, good news man,” Takumi says, “I can tell the twins apart now.” 

_“Yeah, I want those things too.”_

_“Then why aren’t we doing anything about it?! Because we’re gentlemen of Harvard?!”_

_“No, it’s because you’re not thinking about how it’s gonna look”_

_“How’s it gonna look?”_

Divya knows things went badly with the president when Cameron and Tyler don’t meet him at their prearranged time. He knows it went worse than he could possibly have thought when after checking their dorm, Ethan’s apartment, and the gym, he finally finds them in the tank. 

They’re in furious unison, and Divya knows it’s useless to try and snap them out of this, to even try and get answers out of them. It feels like some kind of karmatic inversion for him running out on KC on Valentines Day, like the universe grabbed him by the collar and said time to reap what you sowed, bitch. 

He waits for an hour outside, trying to look busy on his phone and bracing himself for an accidental run-in with Preston that never occurs. 

The twins are somber and damp when they finally emerge, garment bags slung over their shoulders. 

“I need a fucking drink,” is all Divya manages to get out of either of them until they’re a few shots deep back at the twins’ dorm. 

Or, Tyler and Cameron are a few shots deep, Divya doesn’t really trust himself after what happened post-KC Breakup. Plus, it’s probably good to have someone mostly sober to keep an eye on Cam and Tyler, who are entirely capable of damaging things without really meaning to. 

Which was really fucking lucky for them, because otherwise the door knob stunt might have legitimately put them in hot water (though, Divya thinks but doesn’t say, it’s not like they don’t have the money necessary to smooth over those indiscretions). 

“So, Larry Summers told us to go fuck ourselves, what the fuck do we do now?” Tyler slurs, head tipped over the back of the couch. 

Divya doesn’t think Cam is in any shape to be making plans, similarly slumped over practically into Divya’s lap, but he realizes after a moment that Tyler isn’t talking to Cameron. 

“Who, me?” Divya says. “Why am I in charge of the plan?” 

“You’re good at plans,” Cam says. 

“I had a plan, remember? Sopranos? Hammer?” 

“Nooooo,” Cameron says, voice rumbling deep and annoyed despite his intoxication and Divya is already dreading the idea of trying to get him into his room. 

“Let’s table it until tomorrow,” Divya says. “I already have a list of IP lawyers to contact.” 

“We’re not suing him,” Cam groans, hauling himself to his feet, but there’s not nearly as much fight behind it as there used to be. Divya hopes that he’s finally coming to his senses that the potential opportunity of Harvard Connection, or ConnectU or whatever they’re calling it this week is long gone. They need to make the best of this shit situation while the door is still open. 

“Hi, where are you going?” Divya asks as Cameron shuffles to his room and he hears more than sees Cameron flop into his bed. 

Deja vu. 

“He used to do that at so many high school parties,” Tyler says, hand thrown over his eyes like the room is too bright. “You get enough in him he just becomes incredibly sleepy. I found him curled up in so many random people’s beds in high school. And not even in a fun sexy way. He was just tired.” 

Divya huffs a laugh, getting up to clear the pizza boxes and the discarded cups. “He’s such a doofus.” 

“Yeah, but you gotta love him,” Tyler says, rocking his ankle back and forth across the coffee table. 

“Hey Div?” Tyler says after a long moment. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know that like, no matter what you’re always going to be my best friend, right?” 

Divya blinks. “Oh, um, thank you man.” 

“I really fucking mean it,” Tyler says, taking two attempts to get up off the couch. “You and me, okay? That’s rock solid.” 

Divya accepts the hug, which mostly just means catching 220 pounds of dead weight, but in a mutually loving way. 

“Cam’ll come around,” Tyler says, whacking Divya on the back twice before going to the minifridge and pulling out an enormous water bottle and two red gatorades.“If I can’t think of something I’m sure you will. Now I’m going the fuck to _bed,_ please don’t have sex too loud because I do not know where I put my goddamn earplugs, okay?” 

“Yeah I’m definitely going to go wake up your sleeping drunk brother for sex, that’s a thing that’s happening right now,” Divya deadpans, giving Tyler a firm shove in the direction of his room. 

“That’s the spirit!” Tyler says, and then “Ow, fuck shit,” immediately following the loud thunking of what can only possibly be a giant water bottle and two gatorades. 

He’s not planning to stay over, but it’s probably not a bad idea to make sure Cam drinks some water and has extra for when he wakes up (probably still disgustingly early because...it’s Cam, c’mon). 

“Hey,” Divya says, shaking Cameron by the shoulder gently. 

“Mmmm,” Cameron says, face going from confused to pleased as he realizes who woke him up. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Divya echoes dumbly. “I brought you water. You don’t wanna be hungover tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” Cam says groggily, sitting up and accepting the water bottle Divya had pulled out of the fridge. He drinks most of it a lot more rapidly than Divya would expect from someone who was mostly asleep only moments ago. A water droplet runs down the side of his mouth and down his neck and Divya reaches over to wipe it away. 

“God,” Cam rasps, putting the cap back on the bottle, but not looking away from Divya. “How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“You’re just— fuck you’re so sexy,” Cameron says, hands settling on Divya’s hips. 

“Is that right?” Divya challenges, letting Cam tug him down until he’s straddling his lap. Divya’s too sober — and Cameron is too drunk — for them to get too crazy, but after the day they’ve both had Divya figured they both deserve this. 

Cam licks into his mouth so gently but his hands are tight on Divya’s hips, like he’s the only thing keeping him upright. Divya brings a hand up to cradle Cam’s cheek and tugs on Cam’s bottom lip with his teeth until he opens his mouth wider, lets Divya take what he wants. Cam whines when he pulls away, but Divya immediately starts kissing down his jaw and making his way over to his neck, Cam making breathy little noises in response. 

“God, you’re always so,” Divya nips at the skin just below Cam’s ear, “Your mouth is so _wet_ when you’re drunk.” 

“Is that — _shit_ — is that bad?” 

“Not even a little,” Divya says, god he can feel Cam getting hard under him and he knows he’s not going to be far behind him if this keeps up. 

“Div,” Cam whines when Divya forces himself out of his lap, “Please I— ” 

But Divya doesn’t find out what Cam wanted before he’s kissing him again, using the reversed height difference to its fullest advantage and tilting Cam’s jaw up with both hands. Cameron’s hands scrunch in his shirt tightly at first, and then begin to relax as they melt into it a little bit more. The frantic edge already beginning to wear away as their mouths soften against each other. If it was with anyone else Divya might describe it as tender, but it’s too sharp and bright to think of what’s between him and Cam as— 

He just can’t. 

So he gives Cam one last lingering kiss and pulls away. 

“I should go,” Divya says. 

“You should stay,” Cam says, he’s rubbing back and forth against Divya’s eyebrow, like he’s trying to brush it away very gently. “Not to do anything, just. To stay.” 

There’s no good reason for Divya to stay, he has class in the morning and no change of clothes, which means he’ll have to drag himself back to his apartment to shower and shave and change and get his things and— 

“Alright,” Divya says. “Take your sweater off, you’ll be so sweaty when you wake up otherwise.” 

“You tryin’ to get my clothes off,” Cam says sleepily, but he complies as Divya digs through Cameron’s chest of drawers to attempt to find something he can sleep in. 

“Div?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Let me just pre, pre,” Cam makes a face, “pre _face_ this by saying like, you can absolutely say no and I won’t be like, I won’t care that’s _fine_ you can say no.” 

“Alright,” Divya says, turning back to digging through Cam’s t-shirt drawer.

“Would you want to fuck me?” 

Divya somehow manages to smack his hand on the solid wood of Cameron’s dresser and inhale all of the spit in his mouth simultaneously. “Christ, Cam!” 

“Not right now,” Cameron rushes. “Just. Sometime. I don’t know.” 

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” Divya says measuredly, grabbing a random sweater. 

“It’s not that, I’ve wanted to for a while,” Cam says rubbing his hands against his thighs. Shit is he (still) hard? Baggy sweatpants really are a blessing and a curse. 

“Here, I’ll be right back,” Divya says, escaping to the bathroom before anything else can happen. 

It’s not that he’s against the idea, he’s _really_ not, but he knows from a combination of their arrangement and one specific game of Never Have I Ever junior year that Cam’s never had someone fuck him before. 

Never _let_ someone do that to him before. 

Shit. Divya clutches hard to the sink and tries to will the beginnings of boner away while makes a half-assed attempt to brush his teeth with some toothpaste on a finger. 

When Divya comes back into the room, Cameron’s nestled onto his side, curled up in multiple blankets. The fact that everything in this whole fucking room smells like Cam — including his sweater which is hanging off of him, comically huge— is really not helping Divya keep a level head about any of this, but he curls into the twin bed behind Cam and shuts off the light so at least he doesn’t have to look at any stupid part of him. 

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” Cam says after a few long minutes. 

“You didn’t freak me out,” Divya says, and it’s mostly true. “If that’s still something you want we can talk about it tomorrow.” 

“You sound like my— nevermind, not finishing that thought.” 

“Yeah, good plan.” 

“Hey Div?” 

“Shhhh, it’s bedtime.” 

“I wish you’d been there today.” 

“I was here,” Divya kisses the back of Cam’s neck. 

“You’re right,” Cam agrees sleepily. “You were.” 

“Div?” 

Divya blinks, sleep frantically trying to drag him down even as he forces his eyes open. 

“Divya,” Cam says again. “Hey, when is your class? I overslept.” 

“What time is it?” 

“A little after seven.” 

“My class is at eleven, you know, normal person morning time,” Divya says, rolling over and feeling his body punishing him for cramming himself into a twin bed alongside Cameron Winklevoss. 

“Oh, okay, sorry,” Cam says. “I didn’t want you to oversleep, I’m gonna shower.” 

“‘S’all good,” Divya says, mostly asleep before Cameron is out of the room. 

He wakes up again to the floor creaking under Cam as he walks back in, and Divya grunts and rolls over. Cam’s all damp and clean-smelling, wrapped in a bathrobe, hair scrubbed half-dry as he pads over to the bed. 

“Hi sleepy,” Cameron says, somehow the most affectionate judgment Divya has ever heard. 

“Is Tyler awake?” 

“Tyler’s not only awake, he just left to go for a run.” 

Divya groans. “Have you guys ever tried to just, turn it off? For like, one day?” 

“Where’s the fun in that,” Cam challenges, and then he’s leaning down and Divya’s sitting up and it’s the most natural thing in the world to meet in the middle. Divya doesn’t even have to think about it, head tilted a certain way, angled up, shifting over on the bed to make room. 

“I was thinking,” Cam says, breaking away, “more about what we talked about last night.” 

“Thinking about what?” Divya challenges, even though he knows what Cam is talking about, hasn’t entirely stopped thinking about it since he said it. 

“About,” Cam says, breath ghosting over Divya’s neck, “Div, c’mon you know.” 

“I want you to say it.” 

Cam makes a frustrated little noise in the back of his throat, clutching tight at Divya’s sweater — his own sweater — and Divya’s about to take pity on him when Cam says right by his ear. 

“I want you to fuck me,” He shifts a little so he can rub hard against Divya’s hip to really punctuate it. “Please.” 

“Alright,” Divya says, petting the side of Cam’s neck. “Okay.” 

He pulls Cam tight against him, hand scrambling under his robe until he finds his dick. “It might be a bit easier if you come first. Do you want that?” 

Cam’s already starting to unravel a little, pushing himself into Divya’s hand and moaning brokenly. “Div please, please.” 

The mechanics of it are familiar but they’re both shaking a little, Cam panting and pressing his face against the crown of Divya’s head when he comes. “There you go, there you go,” Divya soothes. 

They’re still half dressed, Cam’s robe open obscenely as he flops onto his back, “Don’t fall asleep,” Divya says, patting his thigh as he climbs over Cam to track down the stupid little shower caddy of supplies that Cameron keeps the condoms and lube in. He pulls the sweater that he stole from Cam off, throwing it into a heap on the floor. 

“This will probably be easier if you’re on your front,” Divya says, throwing the lube down onto the bed like it’s burning his hand. If he thinks about this any more than he absolutely has to on a functional level he’s not going to get through this without coming in his pants, having an absolute meltdown, or both. 

It’s not like he’s never fingered Cam before. But it’s always been its own thing, or like the side dish to a blow job. It’s never been because— 

So Divya can— 

It’s just different. 

Cam seems relaxed enough though, chin pillowed on his crossed forearms as Divya strokes his back and clicks open the bottle of lube with one hand. 

“Oh shit,” Cam moans and presses his face into his arms. “God, okay.” 

“Shhh,” Divya says, stroking his back again. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not that,” Cam says, voice a little muffled. “I’m not like, scared, it’s just really fucking hot.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Cam says, and grinds a little against the bed. Fuck, is he hard again already? 

Shit, maybe Divya should have jerked off first too. 

His hands are shaking a little from the sudden spike of adrenaline in his system and Divya breathes through his nose and just tries to take it one step at a time. 

“Div, I’m ready, I’m ready,” Cameron pants, canting his hips backwards sharply. He moved up to his knees somewhere between two and three fingers, and Divya has just made peace with the fact that this is going to be possibly the shortest fuck of his life. 

“Okay, okay,” Divya says, kissing Cam’s back, “I’m just going to— ” he pulls his fingers out and Cam makes a choked little noise. “Shit, sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Cam says, dazed. God. He’s never seen Cam this far spiralled from control before, not even that first time when Divya thought Cam might shake apart at the seams. Divya wipes his hand off on a monogrammed towel and wonders if that’s because Cam trusts him more than he trusts himself. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

Divya’s scrambling now, snapping the condom too hard in his rush to put it on and not even caring. He scrambles for the lube as he gets into position behind Cam.

He’s going to fuck Cam. 

“Wait, baby, wait,” Cam says, back tensing suddenly, “Can I— I need to be able to see you.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, turn over,” Divya says, though he’s not sure how it gets it out with his heart lodged firmly at the back of his throat. 

Cam goes easily, flopping onto his back, he’s flushed down the entire front of his body. 

“Here we should prop your hips,” Divya says, because he thinks if he looks at Cam any longer the image will be permanently burned behind his eyes. “Ready? I’ll go slow. If it hurts we can stop and adjust, okay?” 

Cam doesn’t answer, instead he rocks up suddenly, grabbing Divya by the back of his neck and kissing him hard, everything he can’t say out loud. Divya tries to kiss him with reassurance, gentle brushes of _I know_ and _it’s okay_ and _I won’t hurt you_. 

“Okay, okay, I’m ready,” Cam says, and he holds Divya’s eye contact for longer than Divya thought he’d be able to. Only falling back and closing his eyes when Divya’s hips are pressed flush to his ass. 

“God,” Cam moans brokenly.

“Are you okay?” 

“Mhmmm. You just feel. It’s a lot.” 

“I know, try to breathe.” 

Cam reaches a hand down and Divya’s expecting him to jerk himself off. He’s not ready for Cam to reach down and touch the base of Divya’s dick where they’re joined together. 

“God, baby, fuck,” Cam moans, and Divya cants his hips forward involuntarily. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters apologetically, forcing himself to stay still. 

“No it’s, it’s okay,” Cam says, and then clenches around Divya experimentally. “It feels good.” 

“Fuck,” Divya moans, falling forward a little. One hand braced on the mattress and the other on Cam’s chest. 

“Yeah?” Cam says smugly, the way only he could be with a dick in his ass for the first time. 

“Are you telling me I can move because— shit, Cam.”

“Yeah, yeah, move,” Cam says, sounding half crazed. “Div, come _on_ , fuck me.” 

And look. Divya’s not one to turn down a challenge like that. 

They’re back in the living room by the time Tyler returns, Cam still damp from a second shower as Divya checks his school email on his phone. He’d given up the dream of getting back to his apartment basically as soon as Cam asked him to fuck him, so he’s done his best to look a little bit less like he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. 

“ _Goood_ morning gentlemen,” Tyler says, letting the door bang loudly behind him. 

“That was the longest run in human history,” Divya says, before Tyler can make some comment about him still being here. 

“I got breakfast with Kitsey,” Tyler says with a shrug. “And wouldn’t you know it, I assumed you’d still be here. I got both of you breakfast to go.” 

“Just Kitsey? Not Ethan?” Cameron asks, accepting the take out container from Tyler. 

“Yeah, bumped into her while I was out running, she’s got this sick like, armband thing to put her iPod in, it’s really cool,” Tyler says, flopping down. “She asked how you were doing after the Infamous Night of Exes.” 

“Oh, still hungover,” Divya says, ripping a hot sauce packet with his teeth for his eggs. He’d be more annoyed with Tyler being so smug if he hadn’t gotten his breakfast order entirely right. 

“Yeah I feel you buddy, I did puke in the shower this morning.” 

“You _what_ ,” Cameron exclaims. “I just showered what the hell!” 

“I cleaned it up.” 

“What like, with _water_!?” 

“Well...yeah….” Tyler says, “I don’t get what the big deal is. It’s the shower.” 

“We have cleaning supplies under the sink,” Cameron says, furiously piling eggs on to his toast. “God, I’m so telling mom you did that, she’ll have a heart attack.” 

“That’s a low blow dude,” Tyler says, but he’s already going into the bathroom and digging around in the cabinet. “I got you breakfast, get off my dick!” 

Divya catches Cam’s eyes across the room and doesn’t blink until he looks away. 

“Anyway, I feel _fine_ now, thanks so much for asking,” Tyler says, pulling out a spray bottle of something and a roll of paper towel. 

Cameron and Divya eat over the sound of Tyler banging around in the bathroom. 

“Oh, Divya,” Cameron says suddenly, sounding weirdly formal and falsely surprised, “I

meant to tell you earlier. I don’t think Aspen is going to work out this year.”

Divya makes a face. “Okay, that’s fine.” He’s not sure why Cam looks so distressed over this when it was already a pretty tentative idea. Maybe because after dropping three grand on a watch it seems ungenerous to not buy him a plane ticket and some skis? 

“Another time,” Cameron says. “I promise.” 

He hasn’t styled his hair and it flops limp over his forehead, reminding Divya of how he used to do it back in freshman year. How it had looked when they’d met. 

That feels like an impossibly long time ago. 

“Well, if you do break your leg, I promise I’ll wait until we’re back in the same place to say I told you so.” 

Cam snort sighs and puts his empty container on the coffee table. “C’mere,” he mouths more than says, and Divya’s not sure why, but he goes easily. Accepting Cameron’s hands on his hips and bending easily to kiss him, lazily and self-satisfied. They don’t notice fast enough that Tyler has come back into the room. “Shower’s clean,” he says, shuffling quickly from the bathroom to his room. 

Cameron’s eyes are wide but Divya tries to keep a level head, moving deliberately like he could give less of a fuck if Tyler saw him kiss his brother. 

“I gotta go,” Divya says, checking his watch. “I emailed you that list of IP lawyers— don’t roll your eyes, we should at least have a back up plan.” 

“Hey, dude, hold up,” Tyler says leaning out from his own room. “I gotta roll to my lecture, let's walk together.” 

Divya half expects this to turn into a lecture, but Tyler is weirdly nonchalant, hammering down the stairs of his dorm like they did something to personally offend him. 

“Hey, so listen, Kitsey’s introduced me to her friend who works at this restaurant, Jacob, and I think he’s totally your type. I could probably swing that if you’re looking for it. She also has this friend Lizzie who I didn’t know if was _quite_ your type like, physically, but seemed kind of in your personality ballpark.” 

“What, you sick of me hanging out at your dorm?” Divya says. 

Tyler snorts. “You’re not really around that much more than before you and Cam started, whatever-ing,” he waves a dismissive hand, “I’m just trying to use my super matchmaker powers to help a bro.” 

“Well, you know I appreciate it brother, but I think I’m gonna say thanks but no thanks on this one.” If Divya had learned anything from the KC debacle it was that he could really only handle dealing with the weird emotional fallout of hooking up with one person at a time. 

Tyler shrugs and wipes his nose. “Suit yourself.” 

_Divya,_

_Heard through the grapevine you were back in the city, and wanted to see if you were down to hang. I’m having a party and lots of the old gang is gonna be there. Also, I looked for you on that facebook website but couldn’t find you even though Harvard got it first. Why are you impossible to track down?_

_Text me (I still have the same number)._

_-Camille_

Does Divya think that Camille wanted to hang out with him in part because she was curious about what the hell happened with Cam and the watch on winter break? 

Yes. 

Should Divya not go to her party because of said fact? 

Possibly. 

Is Divya so exhausted from 1) being home alone, 2) hanging out with his little cousins, and 3) listening to his parents talk endlessly about kitchen renovations, that he’s a little more willing to throw caution to the wind and willingly spend time with the people he was unwillingly crushed together with for four years?

“Div- _ya_!” Camille says, practically launching herself into Divya’s arms when she answers the door, and Divya wonders if showing up fashionably late was just giving everyone else the chance to get kind of tipsy before he arrived. “I’m sooo glad you’re here. Come sit, come sit, take your shoes off though cause my roommate is _cuh-razy_ about it.” 

“I heard that!” Someone, presumably the roommate, calls from down the hall. 

“So Bryant’s here, F-Y-I,” Camille says, in a mostly failed attempt at a whisper, “but he said it wouldn’t be weird, so you need to hold up the other end of that.” 

“Oh. Great,” Divya says, wondering if he maybe should have brought something a little stronger than a six pack of Stella. 

“It’ll be fine,” Camille says, blowing her bangs out of her face. And then practically drags him down the hall while he’s still trying to get his second shoe off. 

Camille introduces him to her roommates Ally and Mila, and then there’s Cyrus and Kristi who he used to do academic decathlon with, plus Bryant obviously, and his boyfriend Jeremy, who both give him polite, tight smiles. There’s some polite questions about what he’s been up to lately, how he likes Harvard, if he has any graduation plans, and so forth, and they’ve all warmed up a bit around the time Jenny Bell arrives with a comically large bottle of blue raspberry vodka and a twelve pack of Diet Coke. 

“We should play Never Have I Ever,” Kristi says, practically crawling over Divya in order to get up and get another drink, and Divya really hopes no one else is planning to attend this party, the nine of them barely fitting into Camille’s tiny living room as it is. 

“How old are we?” Cyrus complains, but accepts a drinking willingly when Jenny comes around to pour vodka shots into paper cups leftover from Halloween if the bats and pumpkins are any indicator. Divya quickly finishes the rest of his beer and accepts the Vodka and Diet Coke, already well aware that Camille is a stickler for making sure everyone is drinking the same thing when it comes to games. 

Divya takes a test sip and it’s honestly not too bad, but there’s a tiny Cameron Winklevoss somewhere in the back of his brain who’s exasperated with him for drinking not just a soda but _diet soda_. 

They play a few easy rounds, lots of sex stuff, and it’s a lot more fun than it ever was in high school because now they’ve actually done shit. 

“Uh, never have I ever masturbated in the band room,” Bryant says pointedly, and Jenny flips him off while she drinks. 

“Alright, you wanna play dirty? Never have I ever had a threesome with anyone in this room.” 

“Beyotch,” Camille says, and it’s a weird moment of solidarity when Divya drinks with her and Bryant. “Okay, okay, never have I ever had a sugar daddy.” 

Mila groans and drinks, but Camille has her eyes locked on Divya as he doesn’t drink. “Hmmm interesting,” Camille says. 

“Yeah what the fuck dude,” Cyrus says, “I totally heard from— wait Camille wasn’t it you who told me he had a sugar daddy?” 

“Yeah, wait, I heard that too,” Jenny Bell chimes in. 

Fanfucking-tastic. 

Camille sits up. “Don’t look all judgey at me, Divya, I’m not the one who forcibly bought you a three-thousand dollar watch.” 

“Ho shit,” Bryant says, sitting up. “Where the hell can I get me a man like that?” 

“I bought you pizza yesterday, does that count for nothing?” Jeremy says.

Divya wishes he were either a lot more drunk or a lot more sober, because this hazy middle ground has him caring too much to tell anyone to fuck off, but not eloquent enough to explain in any logical way. 

So instead he just says, “Never have I ever used an electric toothbrush to masturbate.” 

“Alright, that’s fair,” Camille says, and finishes her drink. 

The game starts to unravel a bit after that, and Divya is drifting between Jeremy trying to tell him about his pre-med program, and Mila and Ally talking shit about the girl who used to live in what is now Camille’s room. 

“Hey,” Camille says, returning from the other room and poking him in the arm. “Budge over.” 

“I’m not mad,” Divya says, before she can ask. 

“Can you blame me for wondering? It was super weird, Div,” Camille says. “So he’s, what— ?” 

“My stupidly rich friend with more money than common sense,” Divya says. 

“Now when you say ‘friend,’” Camille says. 

“No comment,” Divya says and finishes the last of his Halloween cup vodka. 

Camille snorts. “Hey, I really missed you.” 

“Hey, you dumped me, remember?” Divya says, but it’s matter-of-fact, no malice behind it. 

“I knoooow, I’m just saying. I miss this. Hanging out with you. I never get to see you anymore, doesn’t that bum you out sometimes? Like all these people who meant so much to you and you just don’t talk to anymore?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” Divya says.

Camille leans her head on his shoulder for a minute, and she still smells like the perfume she used to wear all through high school, a little sweet and a little spicy. He doesn’t love her anymore, but he really did for a time. And he’s glad that they got what they had together, even if it’s over. 

Even if stuff is kind of weird now.

It hits him like a wave crashing that four years from now Cam is going to be in the same place for him that Camille is now. Someone he misses and maybe sees on occasion, gets drunk and reminisces about the good old days with, but not someone who he gets to see every day. Not someone who is often within arms’ reach, or a twenty-minute walk away, or an easy email with no need for formalities. 

“Hey,” Camille says, “I need to tell you something. And you might be a bit. Not happy about it.”

“What?” Divya says, having heard but barely comprehending her, too deep in his own thoughts. 

“Okay so, basically, it’s kind of a long story, but I’ll just jump to the relevant parts and—” 

“And?” 

“Div.”

“Hmm?” 

“Is that your phone?” 

“What? Shit, yeah it is,” Divya says, somehow just now tuning in the familiar sound of his ringer under the ambient buzz of the party. 

_Cameron Winklevoss Calling_ , his display informs him, somehow managing to make digital text on a screen feel smug. 

“Uhh, sorry, I should take this,” Divya says, grappling to pull himself out of the overcrowded couch he’d practically wedged himself into. Camille makes a face, lips pressed tightly together and eyes wide, but doesn’t say anything as Divya clambers over the people sitting on the floor. 

“Hey, Cam, hi,” Divya says, getting the phone up to his ear in Camille’s tiny entryway which is entirely cluttered with shoes. 

“Oh! Hey,” Cam says. 

“Why do you sound so surprised? Did you pocket dial me?” Divya asks, trying to shove his shoes onto his feet without the aid of his hands. 

“No, no,” Cam says, “I just, you usually pick up a lot quicker, I thought it was going to voicemail.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Nope, I’m here,” Divya says lamely, shoes mostly on his feet as he pulls the door to Camille’s apartment open. 

“Are you at home?” 

“Nah, I’m at this house party Camille invited me to.” 

“Oh, should I— should I let you go? I wasn’t trying to interrupt,” Cam says, full best behaviour mode activated. 

“Uh, no, it’s fine. What’s up?” Divya tries to sound less drunk and less annoyed than he actually is, but seriously, what the hell Cameron? “How’s Aspen.” 

“Well,” Cam says, “I know you said you wanted to wait in person to tell me ‘I told you so’ but— ” 

“Alright, what’d you do?” Divya says, pushing out onto the front steps of Camille’s building. He hears it lock behind him but figures that’s a problem for future him. 

“Okay, let the record show that I did _not_ break my leg, but I did twinge my ankle a bit earlier so I’m calling off the slopes for the rest of the trip.” 

“Shit,” Divya says. 

“It’ll be fine,” Cam says, “I’m just playing it safe.” 

“You love to play it safe.” 

“Alright what does _that_ mean.” 

“You know what it means, Cam,” Divya says, because he’s drunk and kind of tired and he doesn’t know why Cam is calling him and he doesn’t know why he wants him to be calling him.

Cameron sighs over the line. “Okay, I see your point. I looked at your list of lawyers,” he says like an olive branch. 

“And?” 

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” 

Divya sighs, it’s just cold enough out that he’s regretting not putting his coat on, and his breath fogs in front of him. “Okay, what did you want to talk about, Cam?” 

“I— ” Cam says. “I don’t really care. I just wanted to call you.” 

“Oh,” Divya says, and it’s not even that cold but he’s definitely shaking, shivering, whatever, “Okay.” 

“I should have just— I. Tyler keeps flirting with this girl who works at the chalet, and I keep turning to look at you, because I know you’d have something to say about it and— you’re not there. I keep thinking you will be which is, that’s insane right?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

They’re both quiet on the line for a long few moments. 

“I miss you,” Cam says finally, like it was punched out from somewhere deep inside him. 

Divya’s head is swimming and he licks his lips and swallows, mouth suddenly completely dry and it’s stupid, it’s so so so stupid but the only thing he can think about is KC’s laptop open to the Facebook. 

The end of the entire fucking world. 

“Cam— ” 

“DIVYA NARENDRA!” Someone calls (very loudly) behind him, and without thinking Divya whirls around, phone pulled down from his ear. 

“Dude!” Derek Visser says. “No fucking way! It’s been a million years!” 

Divya’s brain can barely comprehend what’s happening before Derek is pulling him into a bear hug and wow, he is _so_ much shorter than Divya remembers. 

“Man, how _are_ you. How’s Harvard!?” Derek says, letting Divya go. 

“I— What?” Divya tries, and Derek just nods like he said something even remotely resembling an answer to those questions. He looks a bit less buff than he did in high school, but preppier and less douchey in nice jeans and a Fordham sweater. 

He does, arguably, look shockingly similar to about half of the Harvard crew team, but Divya really does not want to think about that right now— 

Fuck. 

“Divya!?” Cam’s voice calls from his phone and Divya curses, out loud this time, and brings the phone back to his ear. 

“Hi, sorry, I— Cam, I need to call you back.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, no, no, no it’s, uh, it’s fine.” Divya lies. 

“Alright,” Cam says skeptically. “Good night then.” 

“Okay, alright, talk soon,” Divya says in a rush and hangs up. 

“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your phone call,” Derek says. “I just. Wow. it’s been a while.” 

“Yeah,” Divya says flatly. “Are you. Did Camille invite you?” 

Derek actually honest to god _blushes_. “Mm, yeah, she did actually.” 

Wait one fucking second. 

“Are you dating Camille?” Divya asks, out of his mouth before he can consider that it’s a bad idea but also, what the fuck. 

Derek’s eyes go stupidly wide. “What!? No. Why? Did she say something?” 

Divya groans and drops onto the step even though it’s kind of fucking cold. 

“Are you okay, man?” Derek says after a moment. 

“Oh yeah, I’m great,” Divya says. Because what the fuck, what the _fuck_. 

Derek hesitates for a moment and then sits beside him. “I’m not really sure what’s happening right now, but it kind of feels like my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Divya says. “I’m just kind of having a weird— uh. Year.” 

“I hear ya man,” Derek says, and then after a minute Divya hears the tell-tale hiss of him cracking open a Pabst Blue Ribbon. Because. Of course. 

“Alright, okay,” Divya says, pushing the heel of his hand into his eyes. “What’s going on with you and Camille.” 

“Nothing.” Divya gives him a look. “I mean. Like, okay maybe I _want_ there to be something happening but like. Nothing’s happened yet.” 

“Great,” Divya deadpans. 

“Are you mad?” Derek asks, and he sounds genuinely nervous. 

“Do you care?” 

Derek blinks at him. “Uh, yeah, of course I care. You’re my friend, dude. I know it’s like, awkward. She’s your ex.” 

“Friend?” Divya says. 

“Yeah, duh,” Derek says, bumping him with his shoulder. “What would you say we

were?” 

If you’d asked Divya literally twenty minutes ago he would have said frenemies on a very, very, good day, but it’s too much of an asshole move, even for him, to say that right now. So he just shrugs. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’m just being dumb.” 

“Divya Narendra, you are a lot of things, dude, but you are not dumb,” Derek says, taking another long swig of his beer. “You think I’d have asked just any clown to edit my grad speech? You’re like, the kind of smart that’s actually scary.” 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” 

“You should,” Derek says, and then gestures at his phone. “Who were you calling?” 

“Oh,” Divya palms his phone between his hands. “My friend from Harvard. He’s in Aspen right now cause that’s what all the rich assholes do for break.” 

Derek makes a face. “Aren’t your parents like, both doctors?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Just sayin’” Derek says. 

“Well then you should take my word for it when I tell you my friends are stupid fucking rich.” 

“Friends?” 

“Yeah, they’re twins.”

“Cool, cool, super rich twin friends from Harvard, that sounds totally not made up,” Derek says. Because, even sudden reconciliation aside, he is still kind of a douchebag. “Oh wait, hold up, was one of them the guy who got you the watch?” 

“Yes, and he’s not my sugar daddy,” Divya says exasperatedly. 

“Hey, I mean, I respect the hustle,” Derek says holding up his hands. “But that’s cool that you’re so uh. Close.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend either,” Divya says, exhausted. 

Derek holds up his hands again. “Hey, takes all kinds to rock the world.” 

“Where’d you get that, Schoolhouse Rock?” 

“Bumper sticker,” Derek says, tossing back the last dregs of his first beer. 

“So what’s going on with Camille?” 

Derek runs a hand over his forehead and makes the goofiest face. “Uh. It’s kind of a long story.” 

“Well it’s cold as tits, so short version please.” 

Derek runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know, man. I helped her find this place cause I know Mila from school, right, and I knew they were looking for a roommate, and then we just started hanging out again. And nothing’s actually _happened_ but it just feels like. So much between us.” 

“Yeah,” Divya agrees, helping himself to one of Derek’s beers even though PBR is disgusting. “So what, are you going to like, ask her out?” 

“Maybe,” Derek makes a face. “I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb. Like she was into you, and you’re like— ” Derek gestures vaguely between the two of them.

“If you want my two cents,” Divya says, sipping his stolen beer and trying hard not to make a face, “I’m pretty sure right before I left to take this call she was going to tell me she was into you. So. Do with that what you will.” 

“Forreal? Fuck.” Derek says, hands frantically tugging at his hair. “Divya, I _really_ like her.” 

“Life’s short. Ask her out.” 

“And you’d be like, okay with that?” Derek asks. 

“I mean I’m not going to throw you a parade, but yeah, I say go for it.” 

Divya’s not expecting Derek to hug him again, voice choked up when he says, “I really appreciate that man,” thunking Divya on the back. 

“Anytime,” Divya says, patting Derek on the shoulder, and he’s surprised himself when it’s not even a lie. 

Everything starts to get a little bit blurry after that. 

Divya remembers Camille coming outside to let them back in, her and Derek grinning at each other sweetly when they think Divya’s not looking. He remembers doing some shots when Cyrus passes the bottle of vodka back around, and he remembers escaping to the bathroom around the time Camille climbed into Derek’s lap. 

“Divya?” Cameron says groggily when he picks up and Divya is fighting a losing battle against a Pavlovian response to his just-woke-up voice. 

“Shit, the time change,” Divya says, and then, “Wait no, aren’t you two hours behind me?” 

“Div, I was asleep.” 

“Who’s sleepy now?” 

“What?” 

“Nevermind,” Divya says, catching sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. “I just thought I should call you back.” 

“Is everything okay?” Cam says, and Divya can picture him so perfectly in his mind’s eye, sleep-rumpled and soft in a way that shouldn’t be possible for someone that physically large. 

“My ex-girlfriend and my high school worst enemy who apparently considers me his very good friend are definitely gonna fuck.” 

“That sucks, I’m sorry.” 

“Nah I think it might be good,” Divya says, sitting on the ledge of Camille’s teal-coloured bathtub and surveying the little cityscape of bath products cluttered along the far ledge. “Cam?” 

“Mhmm?” Cam says.

“I miss you too,” Divya says. 

Cam is very quiet on the line for a long moment. “Sorry, I thought maybe you were going to say something else.” 

“Nope,” Divya says, popping the p. “That’s it.” 

“Okay,” Cam says. “Good night then,” and hangs up. 

**May 2004**

Despite Divya’s best attempts to stay in Cambridge for the summer, his parents are insistent that he come home after graduation. Which isn’t a death sentence by any means, his dad’s paying him to help set up the new digital patient registry for his office and he won’t have to pay any rent for a few months while he figures out what the fuck his post-grad plans are. He’ll hang with Camille (maybe Derek if he’s feeling up to it), it’ll be fine, it’ll be fun. 

What’s not fine, and _not_ fun is trying to hold back tears while Mirriam clings to him outside his apartment and openly cries. 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she sniffles into his shoulder. “I feel like I’m losing my second boyfriend.” 

It’s a long-running joke, and normally Takumi would do his bit of protesting about it, but he’s misty-eyed too standing off to the side pressing his lips together tightly. “Hey, c’mon, Takumi get in on this,” Divya says, gesturing for him. 

“You’re the realest bitch in this whole stupid town,” Takumi says. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Divya says, but he hugs both of them back hard. 

Over Takumi’s shoulder he makes eye contact with Cam and he has to look away before he actually starts crying. 

“Okay, okay, I’m just going to New York, I’m not dying, let’s all calm down,” Divya says. Takumi slaps him on the back a couple of times and then somehow transfers Mirriam from clinging to Divya to clinging to him. 

“Alright, bring it in,” Tyler, who has been patiently waiting his turn says, spreading his arms. 

“Fucker,” Divya says, and Tyler laughs, squeezing him way too tight. 

“Hey I’ll see you in sixty-four days,” Tyler says. “But who’s counting.” 

“Definitely the dude about to move back home with his parents.” 

“Hey you’re gonna have fun, and besides, if you get bored you can always Facebook me.” 

Cam rolls his eyes. Tyler had given in after the imminence of graduation separating them from friends and colleagues alike had started to build, though Cameron was still hanging strong on his refusal to join. 

Divya had an account under a fake name that he’d mostly been using to track updates, but he figures by the end of the summer he’ll probably cave and just set it to his real name. The way he sees it, Facebook is a better idea than Harvard Connection ever was, he won’t fault Zuckerberg for that. They asked him to bake some bread and he made a goddamn cake, well Divya just wants to be paid for his fucking flour. 

“I just think we have options we haven’t explored,” Cam says, when Divya explains this to him for easily the fourth or fifth time. He’s heading upstairs to do one last circle check of the apartment to make sure he’s not forgetting anything. The kitchen and living room look oddly lopsided with all his things pulled off tables and shelves. 

“Okay,” Divya says noncommittally. They’ve had this conversation so many times he can practically do it on autopilot. 

Cam huffs, “Look, if you’re not going to take this seriously— ” 

“Cam,” Divya says. “Do we have to talk about this right now?” 

Cam softens. “No, I guess, we don’t have to right now.” He reaches out and touches Divya gently on his shoulder blade. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Divya says flatly, breaking off to go to his now entirely emptied room. Mirriam’s picking up the last two months of his lease, but she hasn’t moved in any of her things yet. Besides, it’s not like she’s going to use it much as a bedroom anyways. The built-in shelf on his wall looks harsh, and Divya opens his closet doors more as a pantomime than anything else. He knows he has everything already. Or at least, everything important. He’d sold a lot of the big stuff he wouldn’t need doubles of at his parents house, or left it on the side of the road for people to claim, which was how he’d ended up with most of his furniture anyways. 

There’s something comfortingly cyclical about the idea of his things going on to serve some other Harvard underclassman. 

“Wow,” Cameron says from the doorway. “This is really it, huh.” 

“Yeah,” Divya says. 

“I’m going to miss coming to see you here.” 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Divya says, mostly as a joke, but when he turns Cam has suddenly moved to encroach on his space. “What are you— ” he starts to say, but then Cam has his face in both of his hands and is pulling him up, up, up to meet his mouth as he leans down and Divya clutches at Cam’s waist purely on instinct, trying not to topple over. 

There’s a messiness about this that surprises Divya a little, seems so different from all the other times they’ve kissed. This is not the prelude to a good fuck or a business discussion they’re putting off. This is Cam and him here, right now, for their own sakes. 

“It’s just two months,” Cam says, pulling away from Divya’s mouth suddenly, but he keeps his hands where they are. Like Divya’s the one who needed reassuring in this moment.

Shit, maybe he is. 

Divya thinks but doesn’t say, and what about after that? 

Divya thinks but doesn’t say, it’s not going to be the same though. 

Divya thinks but doesn’t say, if we sued Mark Zuckerberg I’d have an excuse to see you. 

The floor creaks behind them but neither of them move, Cameron ducking a glance over his shoulder. 

“Hey, sorry,” Tyler says, “Mirriam wanted to ask you if your keys were up here or if you had them or what?” 

“I’ve got them,” Divya says, running his thumb back and forth along the ridge of where Cam’s hip bone juts out, warm under the thin layer of a t-shirt. 

“Cool, cool,” Tyler nods. “I’ll just uh. Be downstairs.” 

They both listen to the sound of him leaving, Cam pressing his forehead against Divya’s again. “Two months,” Divya echoes. “No big deal.”

Cameron’s driving him home, partially because he has an SUV and partially because Divya doesn’t drive. They’re about to spend somewhere between three and a half to five hours in a car together, not to mention however long it takes the two of them to unpack everything at Divya’s apartment. 

Plus, if Cam and Tyler happen to go to Connecticut at all between now and when they have to fly to England, he’s sure they’ll swing by and see him. 

But even that knowledge, all the logic laid out for him, doesn’t stop any of this from feeling like a goodbye. 

To Cambridge, to Harvard, to the person he was here. 

To Cam. 

“Okay,” Divya says, when he can find his voice. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” 

Divya’s only home for two weeks before he finally caves in to Derek’s requests to get coffee. Which isn’t so much a reflection on Derek, because Divya has finally (mostly) come to terms with the fact that Derek was kind of one of his best friends in high school, but more because Divya is trying to spread out the good things in his life as long as he can. 

Which, alright, that sounds like the kind of melodramatic nonsense Tyler would pull, but there’s only so many times Divya can have the same three pleasant but mundane conversations with the receptionists that work at his dad’s practice as all of his social contact outside of his family. 

Well, it’s either that or some doctor his dad works with making a joke about how Divya’s dad is the only person in the world that would be disappointed to have their kid go to Harvard. Which, yes, his dad loves UMich with a fervour that borders on terrifying, and it might be funny to other people, but it really was not fun for Divya, fresh on an Ivy League acceptance, to have to watch his dad cry when he told him he didn’t wanna go to his alma mater. 

He meets Derek at a little counter service place that’s packed with the lunch rush, so Divya’s relieved when he sees Derek wave him over from where he’s already snagged a table. 

“Hey, how are you— ” Divya starts, and should really not be this surprised when Derek stands and sweeps him into his arms. “Doing?” Divya finishes into Derek’s shoulder. 

“Man, you look great!” Derek says, ignoring Divya’s question. 

“Oh, thanks,” Divya says. He’s just wearing a dress shirt and slacks, unlike Derek who is in an actual suit with a tie. 

They go up to the counter to order (one at a time so they don’t lose their table), and while they wait Divya listens while Derek talks enthusiastically about the law clerk position he’d landed for the summer. It’s nice to hear someone actually thrilled about their job, and he waves off Derek’s attempts to get Divya to talk about his own. “Dude, it’s boring. I wanna hear more about your law stuff.” 

“Well, uh, that’s mostly it,” Derek says. “I mean, unless they decide to bring me on full time at the end of the summer.” 

“Gotcha,” Divya says, and an awkward silence drifts between them. “So. How’s Camille?” He knew this was coming, better to rip the bandaid. 

Derek lights up and then catches himself, schooling his face into a neutral expression. “She’s um, you know. Good. We’re doing good.” 

“That’s great,” Divya says, prompting. “You can talk about it. It’s weirder if you don’t.” 

“Oh, okay good,” Derek says in a rush of relief, and apparently that’s all he needs to open the floodgates because he’s talking rapid-fire about Camille and how things are going and his plans for their six month anniversary and that they’re _Facebook Official_ and— 

For a second Divya thinks it’s some kind of ex-girlfriend optical illusion, think about one, see another, but no that’s absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent KC standing over in the takeout line in a blouse and a pair of linen pants. 

“That’s my ex,” Divya says, mostly to himself but Derek blinks. 

“What?” 

“Sorry, not Camille, that girl in line— don’t look!” Divya says, but it’s too late; Derek has whirled around, drawing enough attention to their table that KC looks over and Divya sees the realization dawn on her face. She raises a hand and waves, very lukewarm, at him, and he waves back. 

“Are all of your exes hot?” Derek says, voice lowered into what is not really a whisper, but Divya appreciates his belated attempt at subtlety. 

“I don’t know, do you think Bryant is hot?” 

Derek considers this for a moment. “Yeah, kinda!” 

A server appears and sets their food in front of them, and Divya’s ready to take the distraction but Derek doesn’t even reach for his silverware. “You’re going to say hi to her, right?” 

“No. Obviously.” 

“How bad did it end?” Derek asks. 

“I mean, not that bad in the scheme of things, but I’m not going to bother her. She’s probably on her lunch break.” 

Derek looks over his shoulder again, which apparently KC must take as some sort of sign of invitation because suddenly she’s crossing the restaurant over to their table. 

“Hey Divya,” she says. 

“KC,” Divya says. “Hey.” 

A pause lolls between them until Derek takes that as his cue. “Hi, I’m Derek.” 

“KC,” She says, shaking his offered hand. 

“Derek and I went to high school together,” Divya says, hoping that his memory that he hadn’t complained about Derek by name to KC was, in fact, correct. 

“I won’t keep you or anything,” KC says. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” Divya repeats, stupidly. 

“Hi,” KC says. 

“How goes wedding planning, that’s coming up pretty soon, right?” 

“Oh, they actually split up,” KC says. “So, all that drama for nothing.” 

“You’re _kidding_ , but what about all the hours your mom spent agonizing over table linens?” 

KC waves a hand. “Honestly, if you asked her she’d probably say that was time well spent.” 

“Probably,” Divya says, and she grins, and god it’s so easy. And for a second he has this crazy thought of getting on his knees and grovelling for her to take him back. That he’ll do better this time, play nicer. 

But honestly, he doesn’t want to do that to her. 

“Anyways, I should go wait for my orders— I’m doing the lunch run for the office, because that’s what a Harvard degree gets you I guess.” 

“For sure,” Divya says. “It was nice to see you.” 

“It was nice to see you too,” KC says, and her smile reaches her eyes and he knows she’s telling the truth. “Also nice to meet you, Derek.” 

“You too,” He says with a nod, biting his lip and waiting until she’s a reasonable distance away before smacking Divya on the arm. “Dude, she’s _charming,_ what the hell. You know how to pick ‘em.” 

“Yeah, and how to lose ‘em,” Divya says, taking a sip of his water and digging into his salad. 

“Camille says hi by the way,” Derek says. 

“Hello Camille.” 

“I’ll pass that on.” 

“So,” Derek says after a few moments of mostly silent eating. “How’s your friend?” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Divya says, even though based on how Derek said friend, there’s only one person he could be referring to. 

“Watch guy. The one you were on the phone with at Camille’s.” 

“Oh, him,” Divya says, like he doesn’t have a photo of him and Cam at graduation as his desktop background. “He’s fine. Training for this big race in England in July.” 

“Yeah?”

“Derek, what are you aiming for here?” Divya finally asks, voice coming out whinier than he meant. 

“I just don’t want you to feel like— I mean, I talked about Camille a bunch, so…” 

Divya’s cutlery stills, realization dawning. “You think Cameron is my boyfriend.” 

“Well yeah, or you know, moving in that direction…” Derek makes a vague hand gesture. “Is that? No?” 

“No, jesus, not at all,” Divya says. “I mean. Yes, obviously, _obviously_ there’s more than. It’s not just sex. I’m not stupid, I know it’s been more than sex for a while.” He’s never thought this before, much less verbalized it, but it comes so easily and he knows it’s true. Divya is very good at keeping things from himself, but he’s not stupid. 

“But whatever,” he waves a hand. “It’s not _going_ there, what, do you think I’m going to date _Cameron Winklevoss_? No. Absolutely not.” 

Derek looks a little lost. “Divya, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Divya says, spearing a stray cherry tomato with his fork. “I’m all good. How are your parents?” 

Derek’s less of a douchebag than Divya remembers, because he doesn’t press him, happy to change the subject and let Divya stop talking. 

When Divya politely mentions he needs to head back to his dad’s office (not entirely a lie, but also not entirely true since he’s technically in charge of his own schedule) Derek stands and gives him a genuine hug. Not one of those phony bro ones, all back slaps and carefully angled torsos. 

“If you need anything, dude you know, email, text, phone call. Fordham’ll probably get that Facebook thing soon too. Just reach out, okay?” 

“Alright,” Divya says, hugging him back and trying not to be disappointed that Derek isn’t just a few inches taller. 

On a purely objective level, Divya knows that Tyler pulling his shoulder three days before the Henley Royal Regatta is not. A good thing. 

Not for his friend who’s clearly in a lot of pain, not for his other friend who is probably going to give himself a stress ulcer over it, and not for the rest of their team. 

He gets that, honestly, and he’s very sympathetic about it. 

But the fact that he gets to see Tyler two days earlier because he’s flown back to see his trusted Boston physiotherapist honestly could make Divya weep with joy. 

“There he is!” Tyler exclaims, dragging a high tech looking suitcase behind him as he walks off the gate at JFK, Divya waiting for him on the other side with his own carry-on. Tyler’s free arm not pulling the suitcase wrapped in a white sling. 

“Dude, what the hell?” Divya asks. “Did you get _mugged_.” 

Tyler slaps him on the back hard in response, but doesn’t stop hugging him back. 

“It’s just,” Tyler waves a hand. “Ceremonial? It’s mostly so I’ll just be careful and not overuse my shoulder.” 

“Well, rest in peace to your masturbation schedule,” Divya says, and knows when to dodge Tyler’s elbow. 

God he’s missed him. 

“I took an extra flight from Boston just so we could fly over together and _this_ is the thanks I get?” 

“I missed you too, brother,” Divya says, slapping him on his (good) shoulder. “Oh also, Cam emailed me to tell you, quote, ‘Starbursts are not an appropriate substitution for gum’? There was no additional context, so I trust you know what that means.” 

“I didn’t have gum!” Tyler says. “Sorry I didn’t want my ears to be all plugged up the whole flight.” 

“Do you want me to pass that on, or— ?” 

“No, I’ll do it,” Tyler says, digging his own phone out of his pocket. 

Even though Divya has a first-class ticket (a _very_ generous graduation present from the Winklevoss family), Tyler charms first the desk assistant to get him and Divya put beside each other, and then the luxury members-only lounge attendant so Divya can spend the two hours before their flight in well-lit luxury and not in uncomfortable chairs under fluorescent lights. 

“Swanky,” Divya says, appreciatively, surveying the lounge. 

“Open bar, baby!” Tyler says. “Let’s get you a drink. And hell, let’s get one for me as well.” 

“Are you allowed to drink during training?” 

“Alright, thanks _Cam_ ,” Tyler says. “I’m just getting one. It’s complimentary.” 

Tyler signals for the bartender and orders a vodka and soda for himself, a gin and tonic for Divya. Which Divya should maybe not be impressed with, given that Tyler has been best friends with him for years, but he mixes up what he orders enough that he’s impressed that Tyler made the right call for the occasion. 

“How’s the Drs. Narendra?” Tyler asks, sipping his drink. 

“Good as long as I tell them it was you who asked,” Divya replies. 

“Yeah, what is their weird beef with Cam anyways?” 

“Well, mostly I think you’re just good with moms, so that’s why my mom likes you. And my dad made the mistake of calling the University of Michigan the Harvard of the Midwest in front of Cam and he laughed in the wrong way, like, three years ago.” 

“Oof,” Tyler says. 

“It was okay actually though when he was moving me home. Lots of pleasant small talk, gave them those nice grad pics your dad arranged for. They don’t not like Cam, I think they just kind of don’t get him. You’re easy, you’re like a golden retriever.” 

“I’m taking that as a _huge_ compliment,” Tyler says, toasting himself with his glass and then taking another sip. “I mean do you think maybe stuff is weirder with Cam because, like…” He makes an indiscernibly vague hand gesture. 

“I don’t follow.” 

“You know, because Cam is— ” 

“Gay? I doubt it, my dad made such a big deal about gay marriage getting legalized in Massachusetts. And it’s not like they know, I haven’t told them about Cam.” 

Tyler nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, he definitely hasn’t told our parents.” 

Divya’s got his glass halfway to his mouth when he stops and frowns. “What are you talking about? I thought Cam told them winter break freshman year?” 

“Well, that he’s gay, yeah.” Tyler says. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about,” Divya says, feeling like the thread of this conversation is starting to tangle. “What are you talking about?” 

Tyler puts his glass down and tilts his head. “Div.” 

“What?” 

“C’mon. I know.” 

Divya blinks. “You know what?” 

“Like, I’m not mad or anything,” Tyler says hurriedly. “I totally get it. I mean. Alright maybe I don’t _get_ it like, the way _you_ guys do, but Cam is my literal twin. I have some idea of the gravity of the situation.” 

“What?” Divya tries again because he is. Very lost. He knows that alcohol hits you harder on a plane, but he’s pretty sure that doesn’t count for airports as well. Unless the bartender was just pouring these especially strong. 

“Divya,” Tyler tilts his head. “I know you and Cam are dating.” 

Yeah, no there’s definitely something wrong with Divya’s drink. 

But before he can even fully process what Tyler’s just said, before he can even think about beginning to process that, Tyler is just steamrolling ahead. “And look, does it kind of suck that neither of you told me? Yeah, it does. But I can respect that. You guys want some privacy, some time to figure things out and I am _here_ for you man, but I can’t keep pretending to just not know. Because I do. And I’m really happy for you guys.” 

“I— ” Divya says, mouth opening and closing uselessly a few times. 

“Sorry to spring that on you, Cam’s the one with the tact,” Tyler says with a shrug and tosses back the rest of his drink. “Do you want another one? I’m getting another.” 

“Cam and I _aren’t_ dating,” Divya finally manages to splutter, just as Tyler lifts his hand to get the attention of the bartender. 

“Divya— ” 

“No, hand to god, Tyler we’re not. Why do you even— what?” 

Now it’s Tyler’s turn to flap his mouth open and shut, the effort of thinking through showing clear on his face. “Okay, so when you say ‘not dating,’ you just mean like. You haven’t defined it? Or like you haven’t gone on a date?” 

“No, I mean not dating,” Divya says. “It was just hooking up, we never— it’s never been like that.” 

“It kinda looked _like that_ at the apartment. And in my dorm. And a bunch of other times dude.” 

Divya sighs. This is not happening. “I mean sure, okay, but the lines get a bit weird when you’re sleeping with your best friend— one of your best friends — it wasn’t. It didn’t mean anything more than that. Tyler, honest to god.” 

Tyler looks a little lost. “So, you’re not dating, and you don’t want to date him?” 

“It’s not about that,” Divya says dismissively, because really it’s not. “No, it’s about, I mean you know, he’s Cameron Winklevoss. Future Olympian. Harvard Old Boy. He’s not going to bring me home to your dad, are you kidding me? No way in hell. So it doesn’t matter what I want. It doesn’t even really matter what _he_ wants. It wasn’t ever going to happen like that.” 

“Plus,” Divya says, like he hasn’t dug this hole deep enough already. “I mean Cam’s— he wouldn’t have kept— if he had _actual_ — I think we both just. We needed each other at a specific time in our lives, and now that time is. I mean, it’s ending. Maybe it already ended, I don’t know.” 

“Divya,” Tyler says very seriously. 

“What?” 

“Divya, c’mon.” 

“I’m not doing this again. You clearly want to say something, so can you just say it?” 

“Cam is in love with you,” Tyler says. “How can you— how do you not know?” 

“No he’s not,” Divya says too quickly, like the very idea will burn the roof of his mouth if he doesn’t get it out fast enough. 

“Oh really?” Tyler says. “Okay, uh, bullshit.” 

“I mean, sure, maybe in a like, fraternal way he does, but— ” 

“‘Ty, make sure you get some gum before your next flight, Div likes the spearmint Trident,’” Tyler reads from his phone. 

“Yeah, he knows that for sex reasons.” Which is true. 

Tyler makes a face. “Okay, well then what about, one, he puts your schedule into his planner so he knows what you’re doing, two, he _always_ does his hair when he’s going to see you— ” 

“ —Cam always does his hair, period.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it would appear to _you_ , Divya, that’s what I’m trying to say. He’ll have it floppy all day and then do it right before you come over. Stop interrupting. Three, I texted him that we were getting a drink in the lounge and he told me to get you a G and T because I can never remember that kind of thing but he does.” 

Divya makes a face. “Alright.” 

Tyler laughs exasperatedly. “What do you want me to say? Is the fact that Cam willingly drove you into New York fucking City not obvious enough? He doesn’t even drive in _Cambridge,_ he thinks it’s too stressful.” 

“Okay well, even if you’re right — which, I doubt, but whatever — my point still stands. This isn’t _going_ anywhere. Cameron’s not going to put his arm around me in front of your dad and call me his, what, his _gentleman friend?_ ” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right Div, that’s why he is constantly talking you up to our parents and why he talked them into gifting you this whole fucking trip so you wouldn’t miss the regatta.” 

“I can buy a plane ticket, I was going to come before you did that.” 

“I know that,” Tyler says. “We both know that, but it’s not about— it’s about the gesture.” 

“Alright,” Divya says, because he’s tired of arguing with Tyler, who clearly has his mind made up, whether or not that’s what Cam actually thinks. Actually feels. “Look, all I’m trying to tell you is that nothing’s going to change. So you don’t have to worry about it.” 

Tyler makes a face, but doesn’t press the issue further. 

“I need some air,” Divya says. “I just. I’ll go get gum or something. I just need a walk.” 

He abandons the rest of his drink on the bar and leaves his suitcase with Tyler. Only once he’s out the door does he realize that he might not be able to get back in. Shit. 

Whatever, he can worry about that later. 

He picks a direction and starts walking purposefully, dodging around other travellers and luggage. There’s literally dozens of little stores and kiosks he could get gum from, but he keeps walking until he hits the other end of the terminal, then picks one at random on his way back. 

He grabs a pack without looking at it, he needs his actions to not mean anything. Not be some code that people can crack. People could use against him. 

Whatever, it’s fine, it’s _fine_. Tyler, despite himself, is a bleeding heart romantic. Divya knows he’s wrong about Cam. Cam shows his affection in a lot of ways that doesn’t mean that— that Cam is— 

Divya takes a deep breath, stepping out of the flow of traffic for a moment so he can sit at some random gate. He watches people and just tries to turn his brain off. Everything’s alright, nothing has actually happened, nothing is going to happen, nothing needs to happen. He’s going to get on this flight with Tyler, he’s going to sit in a comfy chair for eight hours, and then he’s going to see Cameron Winklevoss for the first time in two months. The first time since Divya kissed him in his childhood bedroom as a reward for hauling a lot of boxes up four flights of stairs. It hadn’t seemed weird at the time, but he wonders if maybe that was an invisible line he shouldn’t have crossed. 

But still, Divya figures if Cam were actually in love with him he’d _know_ about it because Cam is kind of crap about keeping secrets and he’s a well-bred Harvard old boy who cares far too much about honour and honesty. 

Cam would have told him, Divya reasons. He would have. So if he didn’t, it’s because he doesn’t. End of discussion. 

Tyler doesn’t press Divya about it when he returns to the lounge, happy to make conversation about how weirdEnglish breakfast is and how Divya will never believe the stupid thing that Brent did when they went pub crawling. At which point priority members get called to the gate to board, so Divya can turn all his attention to the minutiae that this involves. Passports and tickets and row numbers and trying not to let the awe of flying first class for the first time show on his face too much. 

“What timezone are you even running on at this point?” Divya asks as Tyler flops down into his seat. 

“I don’t even know. All I know is that my body hates me and I am crashing the moment we’re in the air.” 

“Smart,” Divya says, hefting his carry-on into the overhead bin. “I mean, I’m not doing that because I don’t know the next time I’m going to get to fly first class again, so I’m enjoying every last penny.” 

“You also don’t have to get off an eight-hour flight and then a two-hour car ride and then go row for eight hours,” Tyler points out, pulling an honest-to-god black silk sleep mask out of his pocket. 

“And whose fault is that,” Divya shoots back, more a reflex than anything else. He’s pulling his phone out, figuring it’s not a bad idea to check his texts one last time before he needs to turn his phone off. He’s not really expecting anything other than maybe his mom reminding him to call her when he lands (long distance fees be damned). 

So maybe it’s fair to say that his defenses are down somewhat. 

_Hey I know you don’t have an international texting plan so you can’t message me back but I just wanted to say have a good flight :)_

Divya manages to hold it together just as long as it takes him to get buckled in, turning down the first offer of complimentary drinks from the flight attendant. Tyler already has his sleep mask on, but Divya’s pretty sure he’s still awake, and he makes an executive decision as the plane starts taxiing. 

“Tyler,” he says, poking him in the arm. 

“Hmmm?” Tyler says, head tilting towards Divya but he’s still got his mask on, hands folded politely in his lap like a little kid. 

“Tyler, I need you to look at this text,” Divya says and waits for what cannot possibly be longer than a minute, but during which time he’s pretty sure he’s aged an entire year, as Tyler sits up, pulls his mask off, and reads the message off of Divya’s phone. 

When he’s done reading, Tyler looks up at him with a weary look like ‘I told you so.’

“Okay, so, Cam’s in love with me. What the fuck am I supposed to do about it?” 

Tyler groans and falls back into his seat. “I’m not getting that nap am I?” 

One eight-hour flight, four complimentary cocktails, one power nap, and two very near hysterical crying misses, Tyler and Divya have a plan. 

Well, kind of. 

It is a plan, very technically speaking, but it’s the kind of plan that basically boils down to don’t do anything. A Cameron Winklevoss kind of plan. 

The regatta is too important, everyone’s going to be way too heated and emotional for Divya and Cameron to actually attempt to talk about any of this in the two days before or in the time immediately following. 

(“I’ll just put you beside Cam on the flight home, bada bing, bada boom, perfect opportunity to talk about your feelings,” Tyler had offered, when Divya pointed out that they couldn’t just not talk about it forever.

“What, when we’re trapped together for eight hours?” Divya had argued back. “That’s a terrible idea.” 

“Yeah, duh, that’s why you wait until like hour seven so you have the time, but if it goes south you can bail right after. Everyone wins.” 

“I’m actually going to die,” Divya had said, abandoning his drink so he could put his head between his knees. “I’m actually honestly going to die right here.” 

“Uh, there, there?” Tyler tried. “I don’t know, what would Cam do in this situation?” 

“I am not _spooning with you right now!_ ” Divya snapped, right on the verge of actual and total hysterics.) 

So it’s both a blessing and a relief when Divya is dropped off at his hotel without ever having to see Cam, because he’s pretty sure if he’d shown up at the airport, god forbid with some kind of _sign_ , that Divya would have immediately folded like a house of cards. Try as he might, Cam’s love is bright and warm and he is helpless to do anything but grow towards it. 

Divya’s brain is still buzzing as he hauls his suitcase up three flights of stairs, but he’s asleep practically as soon as he flops into bed, still fully dressed on top of the covers. He wakes in the midafternoon, sweaty and rumpled, with three missed calls from his mom and another two from Cameron. 

He groans, deciding he needs a long hot shower before he can deal with either of those things. 

A forty-five minute shower, and another hour-long lecture from his mom later Divya is set to meet the twins and the rest of the team at a pub that he only has a vague idea of how to find based on some directions Cam gave him over the phone and a map the daughter of the hotel manager drew him on a napkin. 

Thank god there’s a six foot five blond sign post hanging around outside so Divya can’t miss it. 

Cam waves both arms over his head like he’s trying to flag down a plane and Divya’s heart thumps too hard behind his ribs. He should be more nervous, he should care more about what his actions are saying, what his body is doing, the fact that he can’t lead Cameron on any more than he already has. Let himself be led on anymore either. 

But suddenly he’s there and Divya _missed_ him and his heart and his brain and his body have separated into different paper-thin layers and he’s grabbing for Cam and Cam’s grabbing for him and Divya’s feet are off the ground for a dizzying moment and everything is _Cam_ , _Cam_ , _Cam_. 

Cam laughs right beside Divya’s ear, bright and resonant in his chest. “God I missed you,” he says, and Divya squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment before he lets go. 

“I was like half a week away from just giving up and swimming over,” Divya says, because it’s easier to lie when he’s mostly telling the truth. 

“Oh, I’d have rowed over and picked you up,” Cam says. “Obviously,” holding the pub door open for him, and Divya’s glad that it’s noisy and kind of dim inside and the rest of the team is there so he doesn’t have to linger alone with Cam any more than is strictly necessary. 

“Divya!” Someone shouts as soon as he’s in the door, and Divya’s eyes adjust to the dim enough that he can make out the slight outline of the team’s coxswain, a junior who everyone calls Thumper, even though his real name is Anthony. Or maybe his last name is Anthony? Divya honestly doesn’t know, because he’s never heard anyone call him anything that isn’t Thumper, including his girlfriend. 

“Oh thank god, a normally sized human being,” Thumper says. “Alright, shove down you animals,” he says, and probably by virtue of the rest of the team being used to listening to him yell orders, the rest of the guys do actually shove over, making room on the long bench for Divya. 

Cam sits across the table from him, beside Tyler who is blinking blearily at a menu, and Divya does feel a little bit bad about how utterly exhausted he looks. 

Divya gets a few handshakes and back pats from the guys on the team he’s better acquainted with, Brent and James and Danny J. all jostling for his attention. 

He can feel Cam’s eyes on him across the table but he tries to keep his focus as outward as possible, joining in on the kinds of group conversations he’d normally forgo for a one-on-one with Cam or Tyler. His main goal, his only goal, between now and the regatta is to not draw Cameron’s attention anymore than he absolutely has to. He’s not going to ruin this for Cam, it’s the one thing he can do for him. 

So when Cam rubs the back of his neck and says, “Do you want me to walk you back to your hotel?” Divya pushes down the bright glowing part of him that wants to say yes, to jump at the chance, maybe invite him up to his room after. 

(Even though Divya’s pretty sure sex is _definitely_ on that long list of all the things the crew team is banned from doing in the lead-up to this competition. Divya thought it all sounded, frankly, kind of excessive, but he did know from experience that anything could throw them off their game. Up to an including a strong breeze.) 

“I think Tyler probably needs help getting home more than I do,” Divya says evenly, because it’s true. Tyler looks like he’s about to drop. “We’ll catch up tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” Cam says, always cordial. “Of course.” 

Divya should turn and walk away now, while the bar is set at a comfortable platonic height, but he can’t somehow. “Why don’t you email me when your breaks are. We’ll do something tomorrow. Just us.” 

“Yes, alright,” Cam says brightly. “It’s a plan.” 

It’s not _the_ plan, but fuck it. 

Divya probably shouldn’t be surprised when Tyler tags along to his ‘just us’ brunch with Cam. 

“I didn’t realize you were coming,” Divya says, trying to sound neutrally surprised instead of annoyed. He’d gotten a table for two, but a server happily moves them to a bigger table, darting off to grab more cutlery. 

“Well, I figured, after what we talked about on the plane,” Tyler says, “might be for the best.” 

“What’s that?” Cam asks. 

“Nothing,” Divya says dismissively. “He just missed my charming personality and dazzling good looks.” Which is a beyond stupid thing to say, and he regrets it while still actively saying it. 

“Well,” Cam says, “who can blame him.” He goes back to surveying the menu and Tyler shoots Divya a painfully melodramatic ‘see I told you so’glance. 

“Hey, uh, Divya doesn’t know about Ethan yet,” Tyler supplies helpfully. 

“What about Ethan?” Divya asks, happy for the burden to be off his plate. 

“He got Kitsey an engagement ring.” 

“Holy shit.” 

“Yeah, here he sent me a picture,” Tyler pulls out his phone and Divya waits an agonizingly long time for the photo to load from an email attachment. Which feels a bit anticlimactic when it’s just, well, a pretty standard engagement ring, gold band, decently sized white diamond. 

“Well, that’s nice,” Divya says. “I’m sure she’ll like it. It’s a bit soon though, isn’t it?” 

“It’s been almost a year,” Cam supplies helpfully. 

“Still, that’s not that long.” 

Tyler shrugs. “I think he’s planning to wait a while before asking. Maybe in the fall? I think he just wanted it to feel. I don’t know, realer? He really loves her.” 

“I guess that makes sense,” Divya agrees. Not that he’s ever put that much thought or stock into Ethan McNamara’s relationships, but even he can admit that what he has with Kitsey feels significantly more mature than any of the other girls he’s dated in the past. 

“Hey, sorry about Ty,” Cameron says later when Tyler’s gone to the bathroom. “I don’t know why he thinks he needs to babysit me.” 

Divya thinks but doesn’t say, Tyler thinks you’re going to drag me off and ravish me. 

Divya thinks but doesn’t say, Tyler knows I know you’re in love with me and he’s trying to protect you. 

Divya thinks but doesn’t say, I think if I’m alone with you for more than ten minutes I’m not going to be able to stop myself from bringing this whole ‘being in love with me’ business up and then I’ll definitely fuck up our friendship on top of the international rowing event you’ve been training for for months. 

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” Divya says. 

The regatta wouldn't have been so awful if they’d just lagged behind. 

They’re trailing for the first half of the race enough that Divya’s pretty sure how this is going to end, disappointingly but not achingly so. 

But then. 

But then they start to pull ahead and for a dizzying moment Divya knows they’re going to

win. Sonofabitch they’re actually going to do it, a come-from-behind victory. He’s trying to keep his composure because he’s standing beside a bunch of random British strangers (because the other option was standing with all the crew team girlfriends and he doesn’t like having to think too long about what that implies). 

And then. 

They don’t. 

They just don’t.

Everyone around them is buzzing about how close a race it was. How wonderful. How delightfully exciting. Divya’s chest is tight and he realizes abruptly he hasn’t exhaled in far too long, forcing out a shuddering sigh. 

The thing to understand about Cameron Winklevoss — and to a lesser degree, Tyler — is not that he’s a sore loser because he’s some kind of braggart who thinks it’s his god-given right to win. Divya actually thinks Cam might be one of the most gracious winners he’s ever met, always ready to shake a hand or genuinely compliment an opponent. 

Cam’s a sore loser purely because he’s not used to losing. He’s _bad_ at it because he’s never had to practice, doesn’t know what to do with the emotions it brings up in him. 

Divya knows already he’ll be brittle with it, shaking with self-loathing and frustration. 

Shit. 

Divya needs a walk. 

It’s easy to get lost in the milling crowds around the grandstands, checking out different food vendors halfheartedly, even though eating seems like just about the last thing he’d want to do right now. 

He thinks it would be easier if he could see Cam now, not in a few hours once he’s already had the chance to play it over and over in his mind, find some convoluted reason that it was all his fault. But the rowers are sequestered and he won’t see him until the reception. 

“Divya!” A female voice calls and Divya turns, spotting Thumper’s girlfriend Madi waving him down. She looks like English Breakfast meets Jersey Shore, teetering in leopard-print heels that clash with the light pink dress she’s wearing. “Hey, what the fuck was that race?” 

Divya snorts, glad to have someone else verbalize what he’s already been thinking. 

“Do you know Chantel, she’s dating Danny M?” Madi asks. “You know Divya, right? He’s friends with the twins.” 

“Yeah I think we met at….I don’t know, something,” Chantel says and waves. “What’s up?” 

Divya makes a vague gesture. “Not looking forward to the aftermath.” 

“Okay maybe this is super weird, but we do always have really good sex after they lose though,” Madi says, shifting on her heels. 

“Oh my god I thought it was just us? Yeah, no, Dan is always so mopey after and I’m like, well hey okay I know how to cheer you up!” Chantel laughs, giving a little shoulder shimmy. 

“I do not understand athletes,” Divya says. 

“Gotta love ‘em though,” Madi says, raising her glass in a mock salute. “Okay, I need to sit down, these shoes were a terrible idea. See you later?” 

“Totally,” Divya nods and waves them off, the strange aftertaste of the conversation lingering in the back of his mouth. 

Also his brain has really latched onto the concept of cheering Cam up with sex, which is quite possibly the worst imaginable thing he could do in this scenario. Plus, he’s not sure Cameron ‘Stairmaster-Masochist’ Winklevoss would even react well to Divya responding to his crushing defeat with sexual satisfaction, even ignoring the logistically terribleness of the idea. 

But still, a guy can dream. 

Every time Divya thinks something can’t get worse, Mark Zuckerberg is there to prove him wrong. 

He’s been keeping everything close to the chest, Cam practically crackling with frustration. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He can do this. He’s used to being the counterbalance for the twins, an easy go-between. He can shift Cam’s moods and Tyler’s melodrama no sweat, he’s had years of practice. 

This isn’t something he can shake off. 

Cam flees, Tyler darts a glance over at Divya, and then follows after him. 

“Stop it. Stop it, Cam. Knock it off,” Tyler says. “I don’t mind that we lost to the Dutch today by less than a second. That was a good race, and that was a fair race. And they’ll see us again. What I mind, and what _you_ should mind, is showing up on Monday for a race that was run on Sunday.” 

Cam’s eyes flicker up to Divya and then away.

“We tried talking to him ourselves, we tried writing a letter, we tried talking to the Ad Board, and we tried talking to the president of the university. Now, I am asking you for the last time, let’s take the considerable resources at our disposal and _sue him_ in federal court.” 

When Divya had found out Tyler was the older twin he’d been surprised. Everyone was always surprised because Cameron was the responsible one, the more uptight one, the one who made the plans and the speeches and the decisions. 

But it’s all on the table now, how much Tyler lets Cam take the reins, how much Cam can crumple when push really comes to shove. 

“Come on,” Divya says, because really what is there left to say. The dream is dead, it’s been dead for months, and Divya is so tired of waiting for Cam to realize it. 

“I need a real drink,” Cam says, spine straight as he stands. 

Divya exhales, Tyler’s head lolling forward in dismay. 

Alright. His turn then. 

He loosens his tie, because yeah, fuck it, he’s going to use anything at his goddamn disposal. 

But then Cam turns. “Screw it. Let’s gut the friggin’ nerd.” 

Divya looks over his shoulder and Tyler is as surprised as he is. 

“That’s what I’m _talking_ about!” Divya preens, throwing his arms up in victory before practically jumping into Cam’s arms. 

It’s a totally platonic gesture. Fraternal even. But Divya can’t help but notice how gently Cam’s hands come up around his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” Divya gasps, when Cam pins him to the wall of his hotel room the minute the door closes behind them. 

“Yeah that’s the idea,” Cam says, and then his mouth is on Divya’s, frantic and hot, both of them still tasting like champagne. 

After the reception, there had been dinner with the twins’ parents and their host family, the three of them trying to stay composed and respectable. It seemed in poor taste to talk about how they were going to absolutely destroy Mark Zuckerberg in court over a tasteful four-course French dinner. 

And then, sometime between the main course and dessert, Cam had put his hand (giant, perfect, wonderful) on Divya’s thigh under the table, just to make absolutely certain that Divya would know what he was intending when Cam offered to walk him back to his hotel room. 

“Oh shit,” Divya gasps when, in a perfect inverse of this afternoon, Cam suddenly grabs Divya around the back of his thighs and hauls him up, pinning him more firmly against the wall. It takes him a few tries and an additional hand from Cam to get his ankles locked properly around Cam’s waist. 

“Cam, oh my god,” Divya pants as Cam goes back to determinedly sucking a hickey just low enough on his neck that he’ll be able to cover it with a collared shirt. Mostly. “C’mere, kiss me, kiss me.” 

Cam complies, letting Divya pull on his bottom lip with his teeth over and over, until his bottom lip is puffy and swollen. 

“That’s it,” Cam says, throaty and low, grabbing Divya around the backs of his thighs again as Divya ruts experimentally against his stomach. He’s always felt like he could take or leave the fact that Cam is so muscular. Like it was hot, sure, but more because he knew all the work and dedication Cameron had taken to get his body into that shape. Now though, he’s ready to sing the high fucking praises of Cam’s toned stomach. 

“Bed,” Cam says, and that’s all the warning Divya has before he’s being practically thrown onto the hotel’s queen bed.

If you’d asked him last week, Divya would have insisted that the fact that Cam was big and strong enough to haul him around was much more annoying than it was enticing. Now though, he can understand the appeal a little more. His careful, gentle Cam driven absolutely carnal on the dizzying mix of lust and smugness to the point where he’ll just throw Divya around to get him where he wants him. 

It’s really fucking hot. 

“I wanna ride you,” Divya says, as Cam starts to pull off his clothes, only getting about halfway done before he’s back on Divya, kissing him hard as he reaches down to undo Divya’s belt. 

“Fuck yeah,” Cam says, and Divya scrambles to help him, pulling his already barely-on tie the rest of the way off and working on his shirt while Cam deals with his pants and then palms him through his briefs. 

“Shit, shit,” Divya hisses, hips jerking up involuntarily. 

“God, you’re so fucking sexy Div,” Cam says, eyes dark and hazy as he looks him over, “Jesus Christ, you drive me crazy, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Cam pulls him by his thighs down the bed so he can kneel on the floor between his legs. 

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Divya nods and honestly he’d agree to pretty much anything Cam said at this point. It’s been too long and he’s missed Cam too much and even the lawsuit is only a silver lining on a pretty shit day and they both need this like air. 

But suddenly the restless energy is fading from Cam and his hands are slow and gentle on Divya’s thighs.

“Cam,” Divya says, whinier and reedier than he means to, voice practically breaking. 

“Shhh, baby it’s okay,” Cam says, kissing along the trail of dark hair that leads to his waistband. He kisses Divya once through the thin fabric over his dick, and then leans down and rubs his cheek against him, almost reverently, as Divya whimpers, before finally, _finally_ pulling his briefs off and taking him into his mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Divya hisses, jerking up too hard once, Cam making a surprised noise and then positioning an arm over Divya’s hips. “Sorry, I’m sorry, fuck. Fuck! Cam your _mouth_.” 

Cam hums in reply and Divya wills himself not to come yet. He had a plan, goddammit, and he will follow through. 

“Okay, okay, stop, stop, I don’t wanna come yet,” Divya finally pants, and Cam pulls off but doesn’t move, looking at Divya smugly despite being the one kneeling on the ground. 

He licks the head of Divya’s dick just once, and Divya loathes the broken sound it works out of him. “Are you sure?” Cam asks. 

“Fuck you,” Divya says. “Come _here_.” 

Those must be the magic words because then Cam is scrambling onto the bed, pulling off the pants he was still wearing for some stupid reason, shoving backwards until he’s against the headboard. 

“Stay put,” Divya says, kissing him once and then scrambling off the bed to dig the supplies he’d brought out of his suitcase. 

Normally he lets Cam prep him, because he’s good at it, and because Divya knows he likes it. But he knows if it does that it’s going to be another agonizingly slow Cameron Winklevoss tease, so he climbs into Cam’s lap and just lets him watch as he opens himself up, Cam touching himself almost absentmindedly as he watches. 

“Ahhh, okay, okay,” Divya gasps, forehead pressed to Cam’s shoulder, “I’m ready, I’m ready, fuck where’s the condom?” 

“Are you sure?” Cam says, even as he’s accepting the foil packet Divya is forcing into his hands. 

“Yes I’m fucking sure,” Divya says, and then when Cam still looks hesitant he kisses him once, very sweetly, then says, “Cam, I want your dick inside me now.” 

“Alright, okay!” Cam says, and then there’s some weird scrambling with the condom and a false start because the angle is weird so Divya has to reach down to help him and then— 

Cam is inside of him. 

Oh god shit fuck Cam shit god. 

Divya whines, rocking his hips a little to adjust. “God, what the fuck. Why the _fuck_ is your dick this big.” 

“I’m sor— ” 

“Don’t apologize, fuck you, don’t apologize,” Divya rocks his hips. “Cam, fuck.” 

Cam’s hands are on the back of his shoulders, holding him close, helping him thrust down harder as Cam rocks his hips, keeping the pace slow, Divya’s thighs burning as he angles for the right spot. 

“Right there, fuck, there there _there_ ,” he pants into the side of Cam’s face. 

He can tell when Cam starts to lose it a little, thrusts coming quicker and more erratic before Divya’s world is tilting and he’s flat on his back, upside down in bed with Cam over him. 

“Div, shit,” Cam moans, helping him readjust his legs, around his waist before hoisting Divya’s lower back up for a better angle. He’s only touching the mattress where his shoulders and head press down and he just melts and _takes_ it. 

“Cam, Cam, Cam,” Divya pants, “I’m close I’m so— _fuck_ , Cam.” 

“I want you to come, c’mon baby, I can feel it, I know you’re close,” Cam says, reaching down and jerking Divya off between them. 

“Cam,” Divya chokes, and then he’s coming, shit fuck fuck Cam, oh god Cam, and Cam’s following him right over the edge, making a noise like the wind got knocked out of him before practically collapsing on top of Divya. 

“Cam,” Divya says when he finally can, “oh my god.” He cradles Cam’s head where it’s pressed into his shoulder, fingers carding through his hair, kissing him over and over right beside his ear. 

“Hmmrh,” Cam says intelligently. “Sorry, sorry, I should pull out.” 

“In a minute,” Divya says, because he knows the moment Cam moves he’s going to become increasingly aware of how gross he is and he won’t be able to lie there and enjoy his afterglow. 

“I missed you so much,” Cam says after a minute, so quietly that Divya’s not sure if he should acknowledge he actually heard it. Like it’s a deep dark secret. 

Divya kisses into his hairline. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

Cam sits up a little and gently pulls out. 

“God, sorry,” Divya says, when Cam sits up and he realizes that he’d come all over both of their stomachs, which was not helped at all by them immediately collapsing together. 

“No biggie, I’ll get a washcloth,” Cam says, kissing Divya gently on the mouth and padding off to the bathroom. 

“Hmm, cold,” Divya says, eyes still closed when Cam comes back and gently wipes his stomach off and then throws the washcloth vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Sorry,” Cam says, climbing back upside down into the bed with him. 

“We should probably get under the covers before we get cold,” Divya says sleepily. 

“Oh probably,” Cam agrees, but neither of them move. 

“I guess that’s a problem for future me,” Divya says, rolling over so he can spoon Cam in a purely selfish move to steal his body warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” Cam asks after a minute. 

“Yes, absolutely,” Divya mutters into Cam’s shoulder. 

Cam takes Divya’s hand that’s thrown over his hip. “Yeah, me too.” 

Divya wakes a while later, cold and yet somehow sweaty because he’s still pressed up against Cam. 

“Mhmmm, shit,” he mutters to himself, getting up and shaking off sleepiness as he goes into the bathroom. His and Cam’s clothes are thrown all over the room like a goddamn rummage sale and he’s definitely going to have to get that blazer dry cleaned when he goes home. Ugh. 

He’s in the middle of getting dressed when Cam sits up, smacking his lips sleepily and running a hand over his face. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

“What time is it?” 

“A little after 10,” Divya says. 

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Cameron says, surveying his Harvard dress outfit from where Divya had hung it over the back of a chair. 

“Here, you don’t have to put those back on,” Divya says. 

“Hmm?” Cam asks, eyebrows raising flirtatiously. 

“No you horndog, I mean I have some of your shit,” Divya goes into one of the drawers. “I didn’t clear out my drawers that closely before I moved out.” He’d ended up with one of Cam’s sweaters, a pair of sweatpants, and a few shirts from the stash that Cam had started leaving at Divya’s apartment when they were hooking up. 

He sets them on the bed and lets Cam take his pick, while he goes back to picking out a shirt. 

“Hey, uh,” Cam says after a minute. “Would you wanna maybe grab a drink?” 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

“I don’t have anything going on tomorrow, I can stay up.” 

“Getting crazy on me,” Divya says. “Yeah, sure, okay. I can call Tyler and see if he’s in the mood.”

“Oh I,” Cam says, and Divya can see it coming from the tone of his voice alone, doesn’t need to turn and see the way Cam is rubbing at the back of his neck, not quite looking at him, “I meant just us.” 

Divya exhales slowly, and he’s grateful at least that Cam is fully clothed when he turns back. “Like a date?” 

“Yeah,” Cam says, gently. “Like a date.” 

They’ve arrived. Fuck. Divya thought he was going to have a little longer. He’s not ready.

“Cam, I can’t.”

“You really can though,” Cam says. 

“That’s why I can’t,” Divya says, keeping his voice very even. “Because if I go and get a drink with you, if I go on a _date_ with you. If I let myself— Cam, it’s going to ruin everything.” 

“It wouldn’t ruin anything,” Cam says, still so gentle, like he’s trying not to scare some kind of skittish animal. 

“Cam, okay, listen to me,” Divya says. “How do you think this is going to end? I have played it over and over and over. It’ll be fine, it’ll be good for a while, it really would be, I think it would be. But then, okay, two years from now, three years from now. Are you really prepared to bring me home to your dad? I know they know you’re gay, but I was not part of that arrangement, maybe a Preston-type, some nice buttoned up white suburban gay guy who wouldn’t rock the boat, but me? _Me_? Cam, it wouldn’t work.” 

“And even if we can get this by your dad, which is a _big_ if, what about my parents? You’re already fighting an uphill battle on that front, do you really want to add dating to that? And then we’ll fight about my parents, and we’ll fight about _your_ parents and suddenly my relationship with _Tyler_ is on the rocks because he’s so fucking protective of you. Which, holy shit, Cam, it would make stuff _so_ weird with Tyler— ” 

“Div, hey, hey,” Cam says. “I’m not asking for— it’s just a drink, okay? It’s just one date.” 

Divya exhales hard. “I don’t want to hurt you. And Cam, honestly, I really don’t want to let you hurt me.” 

Cam’s forehead crinkles. “I would _never_ — ” 

“I’m easy, okay?” Divya snaps, because clearly trying to explain this calmly isn’t working. “Cam, I’m easy for you. Hello, hi, it’s me, your best friend who wants to fuck you. I get it! I get the appeal, I don’t blame you.” 

“But I’m not going to be the easy choice for much longer, and it’s going to be hard, and you’re going to have to fight for this to work and I don’t— I don’t know if you’re really prepared for that. And I don’t want to wander after you for three years and then let you break my heart. So I will sacrifice what I want — what you _think_ you want — because the idea of living the rest of my life without you in it is terrifying. Do you understand that Cam? I don’t want to lose you and if we date, if we actually go after this thing between us, I will lose you. Don’t do that to me.” 

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Cam says stonily. 

Divya sighs. “On some level? Probably since Sigma Chi.” 

“Fuck,” Cam says, pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes. “Fucking shit.” 

“I can get you some water,” Divya offers lamely. 

“Div— Divya, wait,” Cam says. “Wait, just. Okay. You made your argument, right? So let me make mine. That’s the rules of a fair debate.” 

“Alright,” Divya says evenly, even though the only thing this is probably going to accomplish is breaking his heart even more. 

He’s expecting Cam to break into some kind of outlandish inspirational speech, or maybe really punch back at the gut, say that they’d be just as likely to break up because of one of Divya’s flaws and failings, of which, there admittedly are many. 

He’s really not expecting Cam to drop down onto one knee. 

“Marry me,” Cam says. 

What in the hell are you doing?” Divya asks. 

“Marry me.” Cam says again. 

“Cam, c’mon, that’s not funny. Get off the floor.” 

“Divya, I’m not kidding,” Cam says, all earnestness. “Look, you said yourself you didn’t know if I would fight for you when it wasn’t easy. I’m proving that I will. Marry me. We’ve been wasting so much time, I’ve been so stupid and blind and I want to stop. Divya, I’m genuinely asking. Marry me.” 

“Cameron, get off the floor.” 

“Answer the question. You don’t have to say yes but at least take it seriously. I’m tired of playing games. I want the rest of my life to start as soon as possible and you’re the only person I see there. You’ve always been the only one, Divya how can you not see that?” 

“Cameron stop— ”

“You’re not listening to me.” 

“Cam,” Divya says, voice reedy and a little desperate. “Stop it, I’m not saying yes so you can feel like you won something today.” 

“It’s not about— ”

“Do you think I don’t know you? Do you think I don’t know what this is? Cam, Ilove you, don’t make me do this.” 

The words feel punctured out of him, pressed and torn along the dotted line, and everything tilts and stops for a moment before Cam is scrambling to his feet. 

“Baby— ”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” 

“Divya.” 

“I’m so fucking tired Cam, I’m so tired of playing this fucking game. I don’t even know what the rules are and now you’re proposing to me. What the fuck, who does that?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I don't.” Divya says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You don’t get to skip to the end. That doesn’t prove you’re serious, that just proves you want to win.” 

Cam hasn’t looked angry, hasn’t even looked that upset, not this whole time, but suddenly it’s red hot all over his face as the shock settles. 

“You’re such a hypocrite,” Cam finally says.

Divya blinks. “Excuse me?” 

“You treat everything like it’s this contest, like it’s this test, and for what? What the hell is your endgame, Divya? You already won. You won so _fucking_ long ago,” Cam runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Divya.” 

The fight that had sparked in him just a moment ago dims and dies so suddenly that Divya thinks for a second he’s just going to collapse in a heap on the floor. Cam huffs and goes around the other side of the bed, putting his socks on, and it’s so stupid and perfect and _Cameron_ of him that Divya doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry. 

“Look,” Cam says standing. “Just tell me to go, and I’ll go.” 

A heavy pause hangs between them, and Cam looks worse than he did earlier after the regatta, sad and angry and tired all at once. His eyes are red-rimmed and wet and his hair is a mess and Divya _loves_ him. 

And he should hate him for it, for the way he shoved his beating heart into Divya’s hands, but he can’t. 

He couldn’t. Even if he wanted to. 

“Yes,” Divya says. 

Cam’s eyebrows crinkle. “Yes you want me to go, or…?” 

“Yes to the other question.” 

Cam still looks confused for a long few moments before the realization dawns on him, and Divya has never understood that expression more, the look on Cam’s face as stark and bright and brilliant as a sunrise. 

“I loved you the whole time,” Divya says. “The wholetime.” 

And then Cam is literally clambering over the bed to get to him and Divya is laughing this laugh that’s mostly a sob, and Cam is reaching for him and he’s reaching for Cam and they meet in the middle perfectly. 

And when they kiss it’s like every race Cam’s ever won and like every argument Divya’s ever gotten the upper hand on, only it’s nothing like any of those things at all. It’s like kissing your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years and realizing you’ve been on the same team this entire fucking time. 

“ —I mean _obviously_ you need to ask me again on a more reasonable timeline,” Divya says, the first one to pull away, but his hands are still pressed to Cam’s where they’re cradling his face and neck. “And I want a ring.” 

“Anything you want, darling,” Cam says, and kisses him again. 

**August 2007**

The problem with accepting the proposal of the guy you’d been hooking up with on and off for the better part of a year before you’d even gone on a first date is that there’s never a simple answer to questions like ‘when is your anniversary?’ or ‘how long have you been together?’ 

Or, most awkward of all, “When are you guys going to get engaged?” which is currently being leveled at Divya by a decently drunk Derek Visser at Derek and Camille’s rehearsal dinner. 

If you’d have told Divya five years ago that he’d not only be attending Derek Visser’s wedding to his ex-girlfriend but that he’d be in the wedding party, he would have laughed straight in your face. 

Though he has to admit that it would have been good for his high school senior ego to hear that when he finished his (very touching, if he does say so himself) groomsman speech at the rehearsal dinner, Derek would clambour to his feet and give him a weepy standing ovation. So, not everything changes. 

“Seriously, Cameron, Cam the Man,” Derek says. “When are you gonna make this a done deal?” 

“Sometime soon I suppose,” Divya says, making eye contact with Cam over the rim of his wine glass. Unsurprisingly, the fact that Cam dropped to his knees and proposed before their first date is not a widespread part of the public record of their relationship. 

Cameron did fold and tell Tyler, but even he doesn’t know that Divya said yes. 

“Hey, why don’t we go for a walk, man,” Divya offers, knowing that Derek is just getting drunk enough that he’ll probably hate himself tomorrow if he thinks he embarrassed Camille in front of any of her family. 

Derek goes with shockingly little resistance into the highly mirrored men’s bathroom off the lobby of the hotel, drinking the bottle of water that Divya procured for him without complaint. 

“Thanks man,” Derek says. “I know you’ve got my back.” 

“Of course,” Divya says, bumping their shoulders together. “What’re friends for.” 

Derek grins at him all stupid. “You know, this is going to sound kind of crazy, but I used to think you didn’t like me that much back in high school.” 

“No.” 

“Yeah,” Derek says, taking another sip of water. “Stupid, right?” 

“I mean, I was kind of an asshole back then, I don’t blame you.” 

“You’re kind of an asshole now.” 

“Ouch, tell me how you really feel.” 

Derek laughs and finishes the rest of the bottle. “Assholes get shit done. Maybe you should just ask Cam to marry you.” 

“Please, Mr. Chivalrous would be so wounded,” Divya says. “Alright, feeling sober enough for the masses?” 

“I guess,” Derek says, hauling himself to his feet. “But knowing me I’d make a fool of myself anyways. I’m pretty sure Camille’s mom hates me.” 

Divya pats his shoulder. “I feel ya brother. Parents can be weird.” 

His and Cam’s parents had both taken the news that they were dating pretty well, all things considered. Cam’s parents had been a lot more immediately on board, but with a lot of lingering awkwardness, while Divya’s had been a lot more initially standoffish and then one day suddenly his mom was calling him to ask about how Cam’s physiotherapy appointment went. 

“I just love her so much,” Derek says, eyes starting to well up. “I want to do right by her.” 

Divya pats Derek on the back. “Well good news dude, she’s marrying you in like twenty-four hours.” 

“Yeah, I really won the fucking lottery, huh?” Derek says. 

Divya wonders if in this analogy, did he lose a winning ticket? Or maybe he just had a ticket to a different lottery in the first place. 

“Hi,” Cam says, waiting for him in the lobby. “All good?” 

“Sure, sure,” Divya says, setting Derek off in the direction of the rehearsal dinner. “C’mere, lets go get some air.” 

Cam follows after him out onto the terrace, the heat of the day finally having broken now that the sun is down. 

“Nervous about tomorrow?” Cam asks. 

“About the wedding? No. About seeing a lot of people I went to high school with getting really shitfaced as adults? A bit,” Divya says, leaning his arms on the railing of the terrace, it’s nice up here, the hum of the city present but a little bit dimmer. “God, I held Camille’s hair back in so many places at so many parties and now she’s getting _married_.” 

“I’m sure Derek will hold her hair back for her,” Cam reasons, angling alongside him, hand on the small of Divya’s back. 

“Oh I’m sure he will,” Divya says. 

“I’d hold your hair back for you if you needed me to,” Cam says, ducking a kiss onto his temple. 

“Bring me a gatorade?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Hmm,” Divya hums in agreement. “Well I suppose then if you’re ready for the commitment, maybe we should get engaged. On the record, I mean.” 

The thumb that was rubbing back and forth along Divya’s back stills. “You’re being serious?” 

“Yes, obviously,” Divya says. 

“No, sorry I’m not like, questioning you, god Div not at all,” Cam says, backtracking. “I just meant like, you’re sure now’s the right time? That this is what you want?” 

Divya looks around the abandoned terrace. “I mean not _now_ now,” he clarifies. “I just meant if you wanted to ask me in the near-ish future. Obviously I know you need time to, whatever, get a ring, make a Cam plan about it and— ” 

Divya doesn’t finish because Cam’s hand is gone from his back, digging around in his inside jacket pocket and Divya is somehow unsurprised when Cam pulls out a velvet ring box and tosses it to him. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Divya says, surveying the box but not opening it. “When did you get that?” 

“Um, a while ago,” Cam says, an uncharacteristic sheepishness creeping into his voice. 

“Like how a while ago?” 

“Do you remember when we went to Tiffany’s?” 

Divya blanches. “When you got me my _watch_!?” 

“Oh god, no, no, no,” Cam says. “No, after. When we flew back from England. Remember, I had to return that second bracelet I got for Gwen? And they could only give me store credit, so I figured why not? Be prepared…”

Divya’s not sure if that’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard or the stupidest. With Cam it can sometimes walk a fine line, but Divya has to admit he is charmed by it. 

“Tonight, though? At someone else’s rehearsal dinner? That seems a little— ” 

“ —Improper?” 

“I was going to say douchey,” Divya says. “But improper works too.” 

Cameron gestures for the box back. “I wasn’t planning to, I was just trying to show you I’m prepared.” 

Divya’s mind whirs for a second. “Wait, okay so. You’ve been carrying that around on the off chance it seems like a good time for how long exactly?” 

“Um,” Cam says, and that’s all the confession that Divya needs to know that he’s had that stupid thing on him for the last three years. 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous and I love you,” Divya says, pulling Cam down by the tie so he can kiss him. Cam makes a little surprised noise, and it’s a nice ego boost for Divya to know that even after all this time he can still keep Cameron Winklevoss on his toes. 

Cam pulls away first, once unsuccessfully, ducking back in for another kiss, before pulling away with actual conviction. “So, what’s the move?” 

“Uh, no Cameron, I don’t think we should get engaged at Derek Visser’s rehearsal dinner for his marriage to my ex-girlfriend.” 

“Okay, okay, just checking,” Cam says. “Though, I mean, for the record I think he would be very happy for us.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he would be, but I think Camille might actually murder me if I even _thought_ about upstaging her big day,” Divya’s trains of thought switch tracks so quickly they almost collide. “Wait, hold on, does _Camille_ know you have that?” Divya wracks his brain for any memories of that trip to Tiffany & Co. that weren’t just him being horribly jetlagged, but nothing rises to the surface. 

“I wanted her to get the commission,” Cam says. “C’mon, I was helping a friend.” 

“You do realize this means that Derek Visser has known about your grand romantic plan

for _three years_.” 

“Whoops?” Cam offers halfheartedly. “Hey, maybe that means it’s okay if we get engaged right before his wedding.”

“Tempting,” Divya says. “But I think I’ll pass.” ’Cause, okay, even he’s not that much of

an asshole. “Why don’t you think about it next week. Dinner with your parents?” 

“They already like you, you don’t have to show off.” 

“Oh, trust me, the showing off is purely for my own enjoyment,” Divya says. 

“Well in that case,” Cam acquiesces. 

“Here, why don’t you hang onto this for me,” Divya says, handing Cam back the ring box. “Some things are worth waiting for, right?” 

“Absolutely,” Cam agrees, and kisses Divya like he’s got all the time in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> For real though endless love and undying gratitude to youshallnotfinditso and evol_love who are the best betas/cheerleaders/people in the whole world. You can find me on tumblr where I'm also phonecallfromgod and check out Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Love for a pseudo-sequel.
> 
> Update 01/10/21: The incredible cherryvanilla has created a fantastic 00s playlist for this fic so check that out here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/12wgsCxbCUCkaVhJFPP4fo?si=NNHwTbwsT0O12ppjRJUe5g


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